The Many Adventures of Elizabeth Swann
by Liza Swann
Summary: My version of what happened in the 10 years between Will's death and his return.
1. Chapter 1

The Many Adventures of Elizabeth Swann

**Chapter One**

Elizabeth Swann stood on the beach, staring out at the two ships on the horizon. _Turner_, she told herself sternly – she kept forgetting. A small dinghy was slowly proceeding towards her, carrying the love of her life. She was still recovering from the shock: she had been proposed to, married, and widowed in the same day. Realizing that her dead husband was now rowing towards the beach in a dinghy from a ghost ship didn't do much for her nerve either. However, there she stood, silent and reserved, awaiting her beloved Will. After a few minutes, he jumped out of the boat and pulled it onto the sand, away from the water. His ripped maroon shirt glistened with seawater, clinging damply to his torso. Will saw Elizabeth's sword stuck blade down in the sand and crossed his blade with hers. Glancing at the setting sun, ruby-red against a golden sky, he turned and faced Elizabeth. She smiled weakly.

'Mr. Turner," she said, feigning formality. Will grinned and took her arm, and they set off across the beach. After a few minutes, punctuated with Will's almost incessant glances at the horizon, Elizabeth stopped. She turned and studied the face of her beloved, and found that instead of the joyful, love-struck expression one would expect on that of a newly married man, his distracted eyes shone with sadness, and something else she couldn't quite place.

'Will?' He revolved slowly on his heel and looked at her.

'Yes?' Perturbed, Elizabeth stared at him for a moment. She then glanced at the rapidly sinking sun. Elizabeth guessed that they had an hour, perhaps two, to spend together. Looking back at Will, she commented quietly,

'You'll have to leave soon.' It was not a question.

'Yes,' he answered. They resumed walking. Frustrated at his lack of conversation, Elizabeth suddenly suspected him of hiding something, concealing something he didn't want her to know. She turned to confront him, only to find that he had stopped suddenly. He smiled and indicated a sandy niche, hidden from roving eyes: one could never guess what Barbossa's crew might be up to. Elizabeth relaxed. This was the Will she was used to. Once they had settled down, she sighed and tugged at her collar. Noticing Will's head turn slightly, she pushed him away, laughing. She still fingered it, though, and after a moment she explained.

'This outfit...I dunno, women in Singapore must've learned not to breathe.' They both laughed. She then pulled the top layer off, exposing the black undergarment underneath. It was still itchy, but thankfully not quite as hot. As she removed her boots, Will did the same. She then turned to him.

'Will, are you alright?' He looked at her incredulously.

'Am I _alright_? Am _I _alright? He laughed harshly, surprising Elizabeth. As she watched, he got up and faced the sea, arms clasped behind his back. She blinked.

'Sorry,' she said uncertainly. Will certainly was behaving strangely. 'I didn't mean – I mean, I...' Unsure of what to say, she stood up and went over to him. 'Will?'

'I'm sorry,' he said sadly. 'Elizabeth, I'm so sorry, I dunno what's wrong with me.' Elizabeth nodded. 'It's just so _weird_', he added, turning to her suddenly. His faced was pained. "I'm...I- I feel so...empty.' He turned away, running fingers through his hair. Elizabeth put her hand on his shoulder. Whirling to face her, Will looked hopelessly into her eyes, searching for something, although for what he was not entirely sure. She tentatively placed a hand on the scar on his chest. His skin was cold, and she couldn't sense a heartbeat. Of course she couldn't; there was no heart to beat.

'Oh, Will,' she whispered. He hugged her then; the embrace lasted for a long time. Afterwards, Elizabeth took his hand and gently led him back to the spot they'd discovered. She sat, and, after glancing again at the sun, Will plopped down next to her. 'Now...' Elizabeth started, edging towards him.

'Elizabeth...I love you,' Will said, looking at her with much passion. 'I love you so much...' Elizabeth grinned. 'But...'

'But?' Elizabeth asked, smile fading. She shifted in the sand to get a better look at him, and he gazed back with tortured eyes.

'It's not- not fair,' he faltered. 'It's just...you can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. Forever.' He looked down at the sand in front of him, troubled. 'A-and it's not just that,' he continued, before Elizabeth could speak. 'Ten years is a _long_ time, Elizabeth. Too long. At this rate, we will see each other maybe five times, at the most, and then...' He paused, loath to continue, 'and then you'll be dead.' His voice broke on the last word, and Elizabeth put her hand on his. He looked her in the eyes. 'The night before we were due to be married, your father had a talk with me, d'you remember?' Elizabeth nodded sadly. 'He told me many things, but...there was one I can't stop thinking about.' He fell silent. Elizabeth said nothing but was curious as to her father's advice. 'He said..._A woman is a delicate thing. If one can't be there for her, one must let another take his place. Otherwise, both hearts will suffer_.'

For a moment, all that could be heard was the constant crashing of the waves on the sand. Then Elizabeth said quietly,

'He was a wise man.' Will looked once more at his feet. Elizabeth waited for him to speak, then got to her feet, agitated. 'But- after all this, all we've seen, all we've done, you want to just...end it?' She put her hands on her hips. 'We've risked our _lives_ for each other. We agreed – _nothing_ will separate us. What happened to _that_?' Will looked up, smiling. This annoyed her, and she crossed her arms.

'You know, I love it when you do that,' he said. Elizabeth cocked her head in inquiry.

'That- that thing you do...' he shrugged. 'Most women yield to the man, to _any_ man, but you...You fight back. Like an equal. It's...wonderful.' Elizabeth did not smile. Flattery was not going to cool her temper. Will seemed to sense this, and got up. He took her hands in his and whispered, 'Oh, Elizabeth, don't you see? I love you to the end of the world and back, and we've _been_, but I'm not the only one. Ten years _is_ a long time, and I know that men will try to take my place. You might even _want_ them to, just out of loneliness.' Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. Will continued, 'But I know you, and that longing will be accompanied by guilt if your heart belongs to me.'

'But I _love_ you!' Elizabeth exclaimed, wrenching her hands out of his.

'Yes, I _know_, but...ugh,' he broke off, again running a hand through his dark hair. 'Listen,' he said. 'You loved Norrington, maybe just for a moment, but you _did_. Things might have turned out differently had he survived. And,' he continued quickly, for Elizabeth's face had reddened – apparently the tongues of Sao Feng's crew were quite loose– 'you loved Jack. Not quite in a...a _marriage_ way...but you cared about him, and that's a fact. You _are_ capable of loving someone else, Elizabeth Swann.' He fell silent, waiting for a reaction. She sighed and came a little closer.

'Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I don't _want_ to love someone else, whether I'm capable of it or not! I would wait a hundred years for you, and lonely or not, I _will_.' Her voice had risen to a shout, and her eyes glinted dangerously. But Will's mind was set, and nothing she could say or do would change it. Their argument lasted for several minutes, in which Elizabeth put up a fight worthy of any real pirate. After nearly ripping out her hair, Elizabeth finally gave in. Worn out and heartbroken, she muttered, 'Are you sure?' Will nodded sadly, but resolutely. 'Well then,' she smiled suddenly, 'let's make our last day together worthwhile.' Will looked relieved that her mood had improved, and they walked back to their little hideaway.

* * * *

The sun was near the horizon when Will leaned back in the sand and pulled one of his boots on.

'I'm gonna need the other one,' he said wearily. Elizabeth stood near him, and placed the boot on a rock. Her leg was inside it. She looked down at him as he looked up, and he gently lifted her leg up. As he pulled the boot off, he kissed her leg tenderly. Elizabeth relished the moment, knowing this would be her last chance to. Her eyes closed euphorically. She heard Will say, 'It's nearly sunset.' Opening her eyes, she too glanced at the horizon and nodded sadly. She followed Will as he walked towards his dinghy, and as he stopped near one of the many rocks on the beach, she brushed her hair out of her face. Will lifted a cloth off of a very familiar chest, and the sound of his beating heart seemed to fill her mind. Lifting the chest, Will turned around. 'It's always belonged to you,' he said, turning to face her. 'Will you keep it safe?'

'Yes,' Elizabeth whispered. She stepped forward and took it, her heartbeat matching the steady rhythm from inside the chest. '_Yes_.' He leaned forward and put his forehead on hers, breathing deeply, sadly. Then he turned away, heading towards the boat. Elizabeth stood there for a moment, then hurriedly set the chest in the sand, calling Will, and rushed to meet him. She then kissed him more passionately than ever before; no matter what he thought might happen, she loved him _now_, and that was what mattered.

'Keep a whether eye on the horizon,' he murmured as they finally broke apart, and, looking forlornly into her eyes, stepped into his dinghy. Elizabeth watched him row out, motionless, a tear running down her cheek. Ten _years_, she thought to herself. Will was right; ten years would be a long time. To her it already felt like a lifetime since she had touched him, held him, kissed him.... The dinghy soon disappeared and the _Dutchman_ began to move toward the setting sun. In a sudden green flash, the ship was gone, along with Will, and already the world seemed a bit less bright.

**End of Chapter One**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Rain pelted_ _the deck of the black ship, muffling the shouts of the sailors on board. The ship which was hot in pursuit could not be shaken off even by the thunderstorm – much to the captain's annoyance. The sky lit up for a split second, and as the crew worked, a shout rang through the air: "Prepare to broadside!"_ _Thunder rumbled as the cannons flashed, and the _Black Pearl_'s crew readied themselves for battle._

* * *_ *_

Elizabeth found herself walking along the beach once more, staring at the horizon. The sun was about to set. Feeling quite lonely, she sang quietly to herself.

"_With her pistols loaded she went aboard, and by her side hung a glittering sword. In her belt two daggers well armed for war, was this female smuggler who never feared a scar._" It was an old sea shanty she had learned on her way to Tortuga, before the whirlwind of chaos that had ensued in the form of Jack Sparrow and his accursed debt.

"Bloody pirates," she growled to herself. Three months had passed since Will's departure, and there was no sign of _anyone_, much less the _Pearl_. Barbossa had made an agreement with her – she was to stay on the island for two weeks and see how she liked living there. When he returned_, _he would give her a choice: stay there, or return to pirating. The chest of supplies she had been given was running dangerouslylow, and for the last week, Elizabeth's diet had consisted of the various tropical fruits she found on the island. It wasn't a bad life, but it wasn't perfect either. The storm three days ago had deeply shaken her, having little more shelter than the trees. Luckily, though, her old clothes were given to her with the food, and the red coat did help to keep out the cold...Elizabeth stumbled on a rock, startling her out of her reverie. She glanced around to check how far away from her makeshift camp she was, then continued on. The island was fairly large; it had taken her several hours to walk its perimeter. However, it was quite hilly, and she intended to explore it at some point. There was a freshwater rivulet close to where she slept. She had walked upstream for a while, once, but went back to the shore when it was close to nightfall....Her foot once again hit something in the sand. Looking down, Elizabeth realized with surprise that it was not a rock – it was a body, face down in the sand.

She stood there for a moment, stunned, then promptly dropped to her knees next to him. The man was quite slender, and his left leg was bent in a very odd way. Turning him over, she tentatively put her ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat. Not to her surprise, the steady rhythm beat faintly. Of _course_ he was alive; Will would have taken him if he had died. Straightening up, she slipped in the wet sand; her hand shot out to break her fall and landed right on the man's stomach. He started coughing and turned over, spewing seawater onto the sand. He then looked around, his gaze falling on Elizabeth. She recognized him suddenly: he was the pirate from Barbossa's crew that always used to torment her, the thin one with the wooden eye. A surprised look crossed his face, and after a moment, he sat up. Elizabeth stopped him before he could get up.

"Your leg's broken," she said quietly, "or at least I think it is. Stay still." He nodded, showing his understanding. Elizabeth continued, "May I...?" She glanced at the broken leg. He nodded again, and she cautiously bent over it. Of the many things Barbossa had taught her on the way to Singapore, it was how to identify a broken bone – and what to do with it.

"This is going to hurt," she said after a moment of examination. "I need to set it. Tell me when you're ready." He braced himself and nodded a third time. "One...two...three!" He cried out as she pushed the bone back into place. "You all right?" Elizabeth asked, trying to remember the man's name. He finally spoke.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Blimey," he added as an afterthought. Relaxing a little, she again inspected his leg.

"That's the first time I've done that alone," she confessed sheepishly. The man glanced at her sharply, and she quickly added, "Oh- hang on, I'll need to make you a splint." Without another word, she dashed off into the jungle.

* * * *

By the time Elizabeth returned, it was very close to being dark. The man was still sprawled out in the sand, leaning on his elbows. Elizabeth kneeled down next to his leg and laid out some branches, a flint, and an old, torn shirt she had found in the provisions she'd been given. As she carefully tore the shirt into long strips, she asked,

"What'd you say your name was?"

"Ragetti," he answered shyly, not looking up. Elizabeth began wrapping the cloth around his leg, along with two of the straightest branches in her pile. When the splint seemed sturdy, she tied the ends of the cloth firmly and let go.

"There," she said. "That should do."

"Thanks," Ragetti murmured. Elizabeth grinned, and he smiled hesitantly back. Getting up, she gathered the rest of the wood in her arms and arranged it accordingly a few feet away. Then she took out the flint and started a fire. Ragetti watched patiently as she did so. After a few minutes, when the fire had grown hot, Elizabeth looked up.

"D'you want help getting over here?" she called, feeling a little foolish. He looked around and nodded. She stood and walked over to him, unsure of what to do. Knowing that it would be bad to put pressure on his leg, she suggested, "Why don't you get up, and I'll, er....help you." Not surprisingly, he didn't look convinced. "You can use me like a crutch or a staff," she insisted, holding out her hand. He took it hesitantly and stood, carefully shifting all his weight to his right foot. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he swayed a little but did not fall. Elizabeth led him to the fire. They both sat, and Elizabeth reached for some of the fruits she had gathered earlier.

"You must be hungry," she said, handing him one. He took it cautiously, glancing at her. Then, apparently deciding it was safe, he bit into it ravenously. As Elizabeth watched, he ate most of the fruits she had, though he left some for her. Finishing an interesting red and brown one, he wiped his mouth and looked up, freezing when he saw her watching him. She raised an eyebrow. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" she asked. He frowned.

"Lemme see...must've been...I dunno," he said. "Few days, anyway." Elizabeth looked into the fire, waiting for him to continue. He fell silent, however, and after a moment she asked,

"What happened?" He looked up. "I mean, how'd you get here?"

"Oh," he said, shifting in the sand. He looked quite uncomfortable, though Elizabeth doubted that his discomfort was only from his leg. "Well, lemme see. Er," he glanced at her, "d'you want me t' star' from where we left you? After the battle?" She nodded. "Alrigh' then. So after we dropped you off 'ere, we started off t'wards Tortuga. Barbossa an' Jack was talking 'bout some map, but they wouldn' tell us what they was on abou'. So, when we was in Tortuga, we got victuals an' all, but we left wit'out Jack. Was Barbossa's idea," he added, seeing the look on Elizabeth's face. "Well, the crew wasn' too happy 'bout tha'. After a few days we 'ad a little talk with the cap'n. He said somethin' 'bout livin' forever, but the map he showed us 'ad been cut up. Jack Sparrow got the best of 'im again, o' course. So he was right angry 'bout that. Anyways, we was sailing back t'wards Tortuga to find 'im when we saw this ship. East India Tradin' Company," he added, disgusted. "Well, we 'eaded off real quick, not wantin' a fight or nothin', but they chased us down." He paused for breath. Elizabeth inquired,

"But weren't you on the _Pearl_?" Ragetti raised an eyebrow. "It's the fastest ship in the Caribbean! How'd they catch you?" At this, he looked troubled, and continued,

"Tha's the mystery of it all – 'ow _did_ they catch us? Bu' anyways, they did, an' we put up a real good fight. They boarded the ship, an' we was winnin'. But this one bloke, 'uge bloke, he was, started fightin' wit' me. Must've been twice my size, an' he 'ad a backsword." Elizabeth sensed self-defense in the pirate's last sentence, accompanied by the air of one telling a grandiose tale. Ragetti continued, "'e cornered me 'gainst the rail. It was rainin', see, an' I couldn't see too well. He socked me in the jaw,' he said, pointing to his bruised chin, 'an' knocked me over the edge. I caugh' the rail wit' my leg, an' I heard this crack..." He paused, thinking. "Must've been my leg, since it 'urt so much. Anyway, he pushed me over the side. Guess that's 'ow I got 'ere." He looked down bashfully. Elizabeth guessed that he wasn't used to talking so much.

"Didn't anyone see you fall?" she asked sympathetically, putting a hand on his shoulder. He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Wouldn' matter if they did. Nothin' they could do."

"Won't they miss you?" He looked at her as if she had asked if pigs could fly. "You're a good sailor, I've seen you. Don't you think they'd look for you?"

"I fell overboard," he answered, sounding bitter. "They prob'ly think I'm dead. Wouldn' miss me anyway. I ain't importan' to Barbossa no more, since Calypso's gone."

"What about your friend?" Elizabeth insisted. "The one you were always with?"

"Pintel? Yeah, he migh' miss me...a little..." He looked a little happier at the thought. Elizabeth glanced at the fire. It was quite low – it was getting late. Ragetti seemed to think the same thing, for he leaned back and put his arms behind his head. He looked troubled.

"Why're you doin' this?" he asked suddenly, looking over at Elizabeth. She blinked.

"What?"

"_This_," he said, gesturing at the fire and leftover fruits. "Why're you bein' nice to me? I was always tormentin' you an' all, back on the _Pearl_..." Elizabeth looked at him, bemused.

"Well, did you think I was just going to leave you there?" He glanced into the dying fire, shadows dancing on his face. She continued, "Oh, come _on_, I may be a pirate, but I'm not _cruel_." He was silent. After a moment, he nodded. Unsure of how to take this, Elizabeth leaned back and looked up at the stars. The fire faded and died as the two pirates fell asleep in the sand.

**End of Chapter Two**


	3. Chapter 3

The Many Adventures of Elizabeth Swann

**Chapter Three**

The sun was high above the horizon when Ragetti awoke. He sat up slowly, wondering why his leg was so stiff and rubbing his wooden eye. Wincing as the blasted thing splintered, he gingerly glanced around. His gaze fell on the pile of half-eaten fruits and still-smoldering firewood. Suddenly remembering the events of the night before, he looked wildly about for Elizabeth Swann, muttering, "Bloody pirate. Jus' like a woman: there one night, gone the next..." He made to get up when a voice called out.

"Oy! Thought I told you not to stand on that leg!" Elizabeth stepped out of the foliage carrying two branches in the crook of her arm. Ragetti flushed a little.

"I know, I jus'...forgo'. Tha's all." Elizabeth smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you did." She offered him a hand, and he took it, standing shakily on his right leg. "Here," she said, handing him the branches. They were both forked on one end, perfect for helping him walk. He positioned one under each arm carefully and took an experimental step forward. Elizabeth grinned. "Perfect." Ragetti shook his head as she bent over, gathering the remaining firewood in her arms.

"Where we 'eaded?" Ragetti asked, still a little suspicious as to why she was helping him. In her position, he probably would have left himself to starve.

"To my camp. I've been here a month, you know. Have to live somewhere," Elizabeth replied patiently. He didn't move. She sighed, looking frustrated, and said, "Look, it's right past that bend. Honestly." He glanced in the direction she was pointing, but didn't budge. It couldn't hurt to be stubborn, especially when dealing with women. Particularly _pirate_ women. "I've got rum." Elizabeth said suddenly, looking cocky. Ragetti again looked over to where she had pointed, contemplating whether it was worth arguing over. With a sigh, he asked,

"Alrigh' then, where'd you say it was?" Elizabeth smiled.

* * * *

The succeeding weeks passed in a similar manner: Elizabeth would go into the woods and find food while Ragetti kept an eye - quite literally - out for ships. When he glimpsed one, which was not often, he would call her, and they would both yell at the tops of their lungs. It didn't do any good. None of the ships seemed to notice them, or if they did they paid no attention. Occasionally, Ragetti would follow Elizabeth into the jungle, hobbling along on one leg with his sticks. He knew he was hindering her progress, but he felt like it was his duty to protect her. Or at least that's what he told himself. On one such occasion, they came to a small freshwater lake situated toward the far end of the small island, which Elizabeth estimated to be about half a mile in diameter. The clear blue water lapped up against the sandy banks, one edge only separated from the ocean by a large rocky outcrop. The dark rock seemed about three times Ragetti's height.

"When your leg's healed," said Elizabeth, also staring at the lake, "we should climb that rock. It'd probably be better for seeing ships." He turned his head toward her.

"When my leg's 'ealed." She nodded. Ragetti raised his eyebrows. "You mean, you're not gonna make me leave?" Elizabeth looked at him as though he was quite mad.

"Why would I do that?" He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Look, if there was a way off of this island, we'd _both_ be gone."

"I dunno...just don't think _Cap'n Turner _would approve." Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned toward the ocean, the wind blowing her hair out of her face.

"_Captain_ _Turner_ can think whatever he wants. I honestly couldn't care less." Her voice broke on the last word. Ragetti noticed the hurt in her voice, however, and asked,

"What 'appened?" He noticed her shoulders tremble, and realized that she was crying. Awkwardly he placed a hand on her shoulder, putting both crutches under his left arm. "Ah...

'Lizabeth?" It was the first time he had called her by her name, at least to her face. She sighed.

"He left me. He said...he said that it would be better if we weren't committed, or something like that. I- I dunno...maybe he was right..." Ragetti listened closely as she retold what had happened on that last day she'd had with Will. When she finished, she sighed again. "I dunno...d'you think he meant it? Or was he just..." Ragetti rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, unsure of what to say.

"I think he meant well...jus' from knowin' 'im...but in any case, you- you've still got me. Kinda stuck wit' me, really." He blushed a little as he said it, and glanced over at the ocean. "A-an' when he comes back, if you're still int'rested, tha' is, you can tell 'im you want to stay...together. No man in their righ' mind would say no to tha'...but 'is 'eart's in the righ' place. Fig'ratively speakin', of course." Elizabeth looked up, drying her eyes on her sleeve.

"Thanks," she said quietly. Ragetti smiled to himself and repositioned his crutches, and they made their way back through the trees.

* * * *

One particularly hot day, about two months after Ragetti had arrived on the island, Elizabeth returned from her hunt early and empty-handed, thoughtful. She stopped in the shade he was sitting in and said,

"How's your leg feeling?" He looked up at her, seeming surprised.

"Fine," he replied uncertainly. "Why?"

"I think it's probably healed by now," Elizabeth said, falling to her knees and examining it. Ragetti looked at the ground uncomfortably as she began unwrapping the bandages. As the last of the strips fell to the ground, they both leaned in to see. There was a little scarring, but his leg looked normal enough. He glanced up at her.

"D'you think I should stand up?" he asked doubtfully. Elizabeth considered it.

"I think so. Need help?" She stood, holding out her hand. He grasped hers with his left, and pulled himself up carefully. Elizabeth leaned against a nearby palm, watching him take careful steps in the sand. Suddenly, he shook his sweaty, straw-colored hair out of his eyes and said,

"D'you know what? I'm fine. I feel brilliant. But it's _hot_." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." She shrugged off her red coat, stretching.

"Yeah, yeah, shuddup. But seein' as it's so 'ot, _I_ don' really want to spend all day sittin' 'ere in the 'eat, eh?" He folded his arms. Elizabeth blinked.

"What exactly do you propose we do?" Ragetti grinned and took her hand, pulling her through the jungle. After two or three minutes, they emerged by the lake.

"We swim," he said. He pulled off his jacket and shoes, and, to Elizabeth's disbelief, climbed up to the top of the large rock. Then, grinning at her, he jumped.

"I don't think-" she began, only to be interrupted by a shower of cool water. After a moment, Ragetti emerged, shaking his head and laughing. "D'you really think you should be putting that much strain on your leg?" Elizabeth called, chuckling. "We only just got it out of the cast."

"Blimey, it's worth it," Ragetti answered blissfully, floating on his back in the water. Elizabeth laughed and pulled her boots off, immersing her feet in the water. Leaning back in a shady spot, she closed her eyes.

"This is the life." She looked up as she heard a small splash. "Ragetti?" Sitting up quickly, she looked around. He was nowhere in sight. "Ragetti? That's not funny; where are you?" Suddenly she felt worried. "Ragetti?"

**End of Chapter Three**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Elizabeth looked around, unnerved. There was no movement in the adjacent trees, and she heard no more than the weary trill of a far-off bird. The clear blue water rippled where Ragetti had been only a moment before. Elizabeth hovered on the bank indecisively. _He's trying to fool me_, she thought suddenly.

"Really, now, that's not funny," she called, a little annoyed. Nothing stirred. Silence pressed in around her - an overwhelming silence that made her somewhat nervous. The pond glistened innocently, the surface as smooth and clear as glass. A bead of sweat rolled down Elizabeth's cheek. She glanced at the sun quickly, seeing that it was getting steadily closer toward the horizon. Soon it would be evening. After a minute or two, she pulled off her sword and hat and threw them towards the trees. Then, taking a deep breath, she dove into the water.

Surprisingly, considering the heat, the water was quite cool. Elizabeth looked around underwater. Though the water was quite clear, she could only see a few feet in front of her. She swam toward the middle, turning her head from side to side. Green and yellow plants dotted the bottom of the lake, which was deeper than she thought, and a few brightly colored fish darted behind the numerous rocks that littered the bottom. There was no sign of Ragetti. Elizabeth took a last look around, then swam upwards. She broke the surface, gasping for air. Pushing her dripping hair out of her face, she dove again, this time towards the dark, rocky outcrop.

The water was deepest near the rock. Looking about, Elizabeth still saw nothing. The rock loomed above her menacingly. She looked closer at it, noticing what seemed to be a dark spot about six feet wide, but saw no one. Frustrated, she again rose to the surface and swam back to the bank. She trudged out of the water, soaking wet and troubled. The only footprints around the water were her own, but in her search she hadn't found him underwater. She shivered as a sudden breeze caressed her. Wishing she had brought her coat, she sat down in the sand, hugging her knees to her chest.

With a sudden splash and a hacking cough, Ragetti abruptly broke the surface of the pond. Spitting out water, he shook his dripping hair out of his eyes. Elizabeth stood up quickly, eyes wide.

"Where the-...wha-...how...?" she sputtered, watching as he made his way through the water to where she was standing. "Where were you?" she asked as he climbed out of the water and pulled on his shoes.

"I was...underwa'er. Didn' you see me?" he replied, shrugging. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

"No, I didn't. And no, you weren't. You couldn't have been! You were gone for at least twenty minutes! _Nobody_ can hold their breath that long. Where were you?" she asked, hands on hips.

"I _was_, I swear!" he replied, seeming slightly annoyed at being contradicted. "Jus' cos _you_ can' 'old your breath tha' long don't mean no one can!" Elizabeth laughed sardonically.

"_Right_, of course, I should have known. The magical one-eyed man can hold his breath forever." Ragetti's jaw dropped, and after a moment, he retorted,

"Tha's not what I was sayin'! I'm jus' sayin', I was underwa'er. Tha's all."

"_How? _That's not possible!" Elizabeth exclaimed angrily. He folded his arms across his thin chest, his red shirt dripping into the sand.

"Look, when you can' breath, you ge' used to _not breathin'_. I was cursed for ten years. I _couldn'_ breath. I was practic'lly _dead_. Alrigh'?" Elizabeth snorted derisively.

"Must've been a right party - _Oh, look, you just shot me and I'm not dead, ha, ha_."

Ragetti froze, shocked.

"_What?_" Elizabeth blinked, realizing she had gone too far. "You think it was some kind of _joke_? Why don' _you_ try goin' ten years starvin' and thirsty wit'out eatin' or drinkin', an' see 'ow _you_ like it?" Without another word, he stormed off into the jungle.

Elizabeth watched him go. _Me and my temper_, she thought remorsefully, realizing that she might have just lost the closest thing to a friend she'd had in a long time. She looked out towards the beach, barely visible from where she was standing. The sky was darkening rapidly. Torn between her suspicious curiosity as to how he had stayed underwater so long and her desire to restore their friendship, Elizabeth stood motionless. Making up her mind, she pulled her boots on, picked his jacket up from the ground and ran into the jungle.

Ragetti sat listlessly in the sand, watching the moon peek grudgingly over the horizon. Stars began to appear in the black velvet sky, each twinkling like a child's laughing eye. He held his hand in front of the moon, its light giving his skin a ghostly pallor. Only a few years before, that hand would have been bones, bloodstained bones that felt naught but pain, until the moon hid its face once more... Shivering, he returned his hand to the ground. Though it had been sweltering earlier, it was getting rather chilly.

As though an angel had heard his thoughts, he felt Elizabeth place his jacket gently on his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her sit next to him in the sand, looking guilty.

"Look..." he began, at the same time as Elizabeth started, "Listen..." They both broke off, staring bashfully in opposite directions. After an awkward moment, Elizabeth continued,

"I...I didn't mean to hurt you. Really, I was just...scared. I thought you'd drowned or something. Honestly...and what I said, that was a low blow. I didn't think, I-" she hesitated, seeming uncertain. "I'm sorry." Ragetti waited to see if she was going to continue. When she didn't, he sighed.

"'s alright." Elizabeth watched him miserably. "I- I ov'reacted too. I knows you didn't mean nothin' by it." He fell silent, unsure of what to say. Elizabeth gazed at the moon, looking transfixed. As Ragetti pulled his jacket on, she whispered,

"What was it like?" Waves crashed upon the shore, a ceaseless, calming rhythm. Ragetti shuddered, recalling the worst ten years of his life.

"It was...'orrible. I- I mean, imagine bein' 'ungry, so 'ungry it 'urts, then add that to bein' dyin' of thirst. On'y thing we could feel was pain - an' that only when it 'urts real bad. Like when you burned me wit' that bedpan, 'member?" Elizabeth chuckled.

"I always wondered why you felt that, being cursed and all," she mused. Ragetti grinned lopsidedly.

"Good times...anyways, picture that. Then add seein' your crew, your friends, like that, all bones an' all, for the firs' time. An' seein' the looks on their faces...realizin' you look the same, an'...jus'..." he ran his fingers through his hair, which was nearly dry. "Prayin' didn' do no good, b-but I tried. Really, I did. Pintel said it wouldn' do no good, bu' he's never been much of a...faithful man." Ragetti shrugged. "I can' read, so all I could really do besides that was carry a bible 'round." He pulled an old, leather-covered book out of his jacket.

"How do you know him?" Elizabeth asked.

"Pintel? He's my uncle. See, my mum was a- well, she's a scarlet woman, if you know wha' I mean." Elizabeth nodded. "Well, anyways, she left me wit' him cos she didn' think she'd be able to take proper care of me, consid'ring 'er job."

"My mother died when I was just a child, four years old," Elizabeth said sadly.

"Dunno if my mum's alive 'r dead. I never knew 'er," he replied. "The on'y type of p'rental support I ever got was Pintel - if you c'n call it that."

"How did you end up with Barbossa?" Elizabeth inquired. Ragetti glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed genuinely interested, which surprised him.

"Well, when I was old 'nough, we joined the navy." He snorted. "See, when you think of pirates an' all, you think the conditions 're bad. But they ain't _nothin'_ compared to the navy. The food's 'orrible, they never give you rum, they treat you like dung on their boots. We tired of it real quick, and d'cided to hop ship next chance we could. Th' next day, we met ol' Jack on the _Pearl_, and, well, there you go," he explained. As an afterthought, he added, "S'pose it was a bad move an' all, since we was cursed practic'lly the next year, but...I dunno. Don' really regret it, to be 'onest." He sighed reflectively.

Elizabeth produced a half-empty bottle of rum.

"It's the last of it...I've been saving it," she said, looking a little guilty. Ragetti, having been under the impression that there was none left, grabbed it and took a swig. She looked down. Ragetti sighed, lowering his arm, and said,

"Look, I'm no' mad. Really, 's alright." She didn't move. He handed her the rum. Looking up, Elizabeth took it hesitantly. He smiled. "We good?"

"We're good," she replied, seeming relieved. They both sat in silence for a moment. "So he's your only family?" Elizabeth asked after a moment, taking another drink of rum.

"Yeah." Ragetti replied casually. "What 'bout you?" Elizabeth shrugged.

"Well, after my mother died, it was just my father – and Will, of course, but...I suppose he wouldn't count as _family_. I had a few friends in Britain, but when we moved to Port Royal, it was just him." She shifted, uncomfortable, and continued, "Did you have any close friends when you were young?" Ragetti grinned, retrieving fond memories.

"Jus' one. Sort of a...child'ood lover, I guess you'd call it. 'er name was Delilah. Delilah Charlotte Fairbanks." He caressed the words with reverence. Elizabeth looked stunned.

"Delilah Fairbanks? I knew her; she was my best friend when I was little!" she exclaimed. Her broad smile faded as she saw the look on his face. "What happened?"

"One nigh', 'er maid was a bi' clumsy wit' the fireplace. The 'ouse went up in flames wit' the entire family inside," he replied gloomily. "I- I couldn' do nothin' 'bout it. I tried – they wouldn' let me go in. She was on'y seventeen when she died. Bless 'er."

Forlorn, he looked up at the stars. Elizabeth placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looked over at it, that pale, comforting hand. "Sometimes...I think 's my faul'. Like I coulda saved 'er and I- I didn'," he confessed. Her gaze met his.

"It's not your fault. They wouldn't let you go in, you said so yourself. It's nobody's fault."

"Yeah? You...you really think so?" He blushed as he said it, deciding that it was a foolish question.

"Of course,"came the reply. The palm trees behind them swayed as the wind picked up, and Elizabeth shivered. Stretching, Ragetti lay back in the sand, using his arms as a pillow. Elizabeth did the same, and the moon watched them fall slowly into a deep slumber.

**End of Chapter Four**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_The surrounding houses glowed with an eerie orange light. Men carrying the long-awaited water in buckets rushed through the crowd of anxious spectators, only to be forestalled by flaming debris hurled at them like cannons from a fortress. They realized that it was too late as a high-pitched scream echoed through the night. At that moment, a sandy-haired teenager burst through the crowd. The men held him back as he struggled to get inside the doomed establishment. "No- no!" The boy's blue eyes shone with dread as he yelled, "Delilah!" _

* * * *

Ragetti woke with a start. He was not surprised to find that it was drizzling. Several months of heat had gradually been replaced by dark clouds and wind, and an all-out storm had been tormenting the pirates for eight consecutive days. The rain hadn't been as much of a problem as the wind – it had actually slowed to a drizzle several times. The night before, it had stopped, though, to his displeasure, it seemed to be preparing to return full-blast. Sitting up, he looked out to sea. With a gasp, he reached over to where Elizabeth was resting, four feet away, to wake her.

"'Lizabeth...'Lizabeth, wake up," he muttered, keeping his gaze toward the ocean. "'_Lizabeth_." Her eyes shot open and she sat up.

"What? What is it, what's happened?" she asked drearily, stifling a yawn.

"Look," he said, pointing, "over there." He watched her scan the horizon. After a moment, her brown eyes widened.

"A ship," she muttered, half to herself. "A ship! And it's closer than the others were, look! Is it the _Pearl_?"

"Don' look like it," Ragetti replied, leaning forward to see it better. "Nah, 's got white sails. Looks like navy." Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Suppose we should wait and see what they do?" Elizabeth asked, leaning on a wet palm tree behind her. It was bent nearly double with the wind.

"Yeah, guess so," he answered, peering more closely at the navy ship in the distance. A moment passed. "They ain't movin'."

"Well, I _think_ we'll have to wait a bit longer than that," Elizabeth responded tartly. Ragetti rolled his eyes.

"No, I _mean_, they ain't movin' at _all_. Even wit' the wind." As he pointed this out, she inspected the distant ship.

"You're right," she said, brow furrowing. "They've let their anchor down."

The two glanced at each other nervously. "They'll never try to row here in _this_ weather," she reasoned, though looking doubtful.

"Yeah," he agreed, "bu' all the same, it'll clear up eventually. Plus, I've no' used a sword in a while, an' I've only go' one shot wit' this." He held up his forlorn-looking pistol. The look on Elizabeth's face resembled the way he felt.

"True," she remarked, pulling out her sword. Turning it over in her hands, she glanced at him. "Shall we?"

He stood, drawing his cutlass with his left hand and bowing with a feisty grin.

"My pleasure."

Elizabeth took her place facing him as the rain increased. They circled each other twice, neither wanting to strike first. Then she darted forward, swinging at his shoulder. Parrying her thrust, Ragetti jumped to the side, nearly slipping in the wet sand. His arm shot up as she struck again. Their blades met in midair, halting the action for a split second before Elizabeth spun away, her sword slicing the air. The rain poured ceaselessly as their blows became increasingly intense. Soon, Ragetti's arms burned with effort. Every attempt he made to defeat her was blocked, though he deflected her blows with equal success. At one point, she hit his head with the hilt of her sword. His wooden eye popped out and rolled away in the sand. Ragetti didn't stop. He was not about to be defeated by a _woman_. Lightning flashed, accompanied by the instantaneous rumble of thunder. The rain slowed to a drizzle once more, making an ethereal haze in which neither pirate could see the other save for a blur of silver. Suddenly, both froze. Ragetti, chin thrust up, noticed Elizabeth's blade quivering half an inch from his throat. He grinned, however, as she looked down to see the tip of his cutlass pressed against her belly. After a tense moment, they lowered their swords, laughing.

"I think tha'll do," he commented, panting. "Blimey, you're good."

"You're not so bad yourself," Elizabeth replied, sheathing her sword. "I've never been in a more intense duel, even with Will." Ragetti chuckled coyly, then gasped and dropped to his knees. He brushed his hands against the sand, practically blind with the again increasing rain, until he located his wooden eye. Standing, he brushed it off and pushed it back into the hole where his right eye once dwelled. He glanced at Elizabeth, who was watching him with antipathy.

"Is that really...I mean...Doesn't that bother you?" she asked. Ragetti shrugged.

"Y'get used to it, after a while," he replied nonchalantly. Elizabeth jumped as a crack of thunder rang through the air like a gunshot. They both looked up, covering their faces with their arms, as the rain began pouring down, harder than before. Ragetti watched as lightning flashed in the dark, swirling clouds above, and shouted,

"Let's get out of 'ere." He took Elizabeth's hand and dragged her away from the water, where she had been watching the storm, transfixed. "C'mon!" She turned and followed him into the trees.

* * * *

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth called after him, chasing him through the jungle. He didn't seem to hear her. She stopped, and, as he was still grasping her hand, he halted as well. "What are you doing?"

"We 'ave to get out o' that," he replied. "'s an 'urricane." Elizabeth glanced toward the beach.

"Are you sure?" she asked nervously.

"Don' you see those clouds? How many storms look like tha'- and last a week? We've gotta get out o' this." Before she could speak again, he resumed running. Not wanting to be left alone, she followed closely. They emerged near the lake. Ragetti turned to face her urgently.

"You've gotta trust me wit' this, 'Lizabeth. Alrigh'?"

"What exactly am I trusting you with?" she asked, confused. He backed away, turning around, and, to Elizabeth's utter amazement, waded into the lake. He shouted,

"C'mon!" She could do no more than stare, dumbfounded. The wind whipped her hair into her face. Scraping at it with her fingers, she heard him call,

"_Please_!" Elizabeth hesitated as the sky brightened with lightning's brief flare. Then she ran after him into the water.

"What-"

"Follow me," he interrupted. He swam toward the rocky outcrop. She followed, reconsidering her trust in his sanity. Then, he went underwater. Reluctant to lose him _again_, Elizabeth took a deep breath and quickly did the same. The water was dark and cold, but it was calmer than the surface. Looking around, she saw Ragetti beckoning slowly at her. She swam towards him, following around four feet behind him. As she watched, he seemed to disappear into the black rock. Elizabeth scanned it for a moment, perturbed, then came to the sudden realization that he had swum into a cave. She surfaced momentarily to take a breath, then pursued him.

There was no way to see inside the rock. Putting her hands in front of her, Elizabeth felt the slippery bottom and pulled herself deeper into the cave. A fish darted out from under her hand as she climbed through the underwater tunnel, almost making her cry out. She began wondering exactly how wise this venture was, which, accompanied by the intensifying burning in her chest, gave her a slight feeling of dread. She continued through, the combination of pressure and lack of air making her head spin. She began to slow, white circles blotting her vision. Holding out her arm almost pitifully, she sank, her last bit of breath erupting from her mouth in a stream of bubbles.

A pair of strong hands suddenly grasped Elizabeth's forearms, pulling her halfway out of the water. Gasping for air, she leaned heavily on Ragetti's shoulders as he dragged her out of the lake and onto the cold, damp ground. She took a few minutes to regain strength enough to examine her surroundings. Looking around feebly, she could see very little, though she sensed that they were inside a vast cavern of rock. The trickle of running water echoed through the cave, an unsteady but calming rhythm. The pool of water lay innocently near her feet.

"You alrigh'?" Ragetti asked, his voice concerned. With his help, Elizabeth sat up carefully and crossed her legs, leaning against the moist cave wall. She sighed, cold air filling her lungs.

"Yes...yes, I'm fine," she answered, eyes closed. As her strength returned, however, so did her senses. "How did you know about this place?"

"Well," he answered hesitantly, "the other day, when we was swimmin', y'know how I was underwa'er for ages?" Elizabeth nodded. She felt him stretch out his arms next to her. "I wasn' really holdin' my breath tha' long."

"You were here?" Elizabeth inquired, keeping her voice steady.

"Yeah."

"So you lied?" she asked angrily, getting to her feet. "I was _worried_ about you! And you _lied_ to me?" Ragetti stood as well, retorting,

"Look, I'm sorry, alrigh'? I...I jus'-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Elizabeth challenged, folding her arms.

"_You_ don't tell me everythin' about _your_ life! Why is it tha'- " he paused. "Let's not start this again. Yes, I lied, and I'm sorry. I should'a told you. Dunno why I didn', but it's over wit' now. End o' story. Alrigh'?"

"Fine," Elizabeth sighed, too tired to argue. Contemplating the situation for a moment, she leaned against the cave wall and looked up, straining to see. "D'you suppose we could make a fire? I can't see a thing."

"Out of wha'?" she heard him ask.

"Erm..." Elizabeth felt the rock behind her. To her surprise, there was some manner of plant life growing there. "We could use this," she suggested, pulling some off of the wall. She handed it to him.

"Yeah," he replied, sounding relieved, "s'pose we could."

They pulled more of the plant off of the wall and adjacent rocks. By the time they finished, quite a pile had gathered by their feet. Elizabeth pulled her flint out of her pocket, handing it to Ragetti so he could start the fire. While he worked on it, she braided her still-damp hair, placing her worn tricorne on her knee. A spark of light flared to her left, fleetingly illuminating Ragetti's triumphant expression. The fire grew gradually, drawing both pirates closer to its warmth. The cave, which was smaller than Elizabeth had first estimated, glistened bewitchingly. For several minutes, the erratic crackling of the fire filled her mind. She leaned back, blocking everything else out and trying to relax. After a while, Ragetti rose, strolling over to the cave wall. Elizabeth didn't move.

"'Lizabeth." He sounded awed.

"What?" She asked, turning her head idly.

"'s not jus' wa'er. On the walls." He turned his face toward her, his expression one of wonder. "There's diamonds."

**End of Chapter Five**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"_Diamonds!_" Ragetti heard Elizabeth gasp. He turned to her excitedly as she scampered to his side, her almond-colored eyes sparkling like the gems in the cave wall. "We're rich!"

Almost without thinking about it, he pulled her into a hug, spinning her around gleefully at the prospect of wealth. She laughed as her feet touched the ground once more, and hugged him back. After a moment, they broke apart quite quickly, each looking in the opposite direction. Seeing her blushing, he hastily ducked his head so as to hide his own reddening cheeks. _Stupid_, he told himself angrily. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. But Elizabeth seemed not to care; she gazed up at the sparkling gems, an strange smile on her face.

"We're _rich_," she repeated happily. "I can get a ship. Be a captain! And you," she added, spinning around to face Ragetti, "you can get yourself a new glass eye, like you've been wanting! It's perfect!"

"So that's wha' you're gonna do?" he asked. "Keep piratin'?"

Elizabeth blinked.

"Well, of course. What else _can_ I do? Go back to being the governor's daughter?" she asked sarcastically, prancing around like some sort of demented dancer. Ragetti chuckled as she flipped her hair and added, "Oh, dear, these years at sea have _completely_ ruined my hair! However will I survive?" Ending her display, she grinned over at him. "Why?"

He shrugged self-consciously.

"I dunno...'s just...can I stay wit'- wit' you?" He instantly regretted asking, and yet the question had been burning in him for quite a while.

"If you want to," Elizabeth replied distractedly. Ragetti smiled, satisfied, as she turned back toward the cave's jewel-encrusted wall. "Now," she declared, "how are we going to get these out?"

The question echoed in the cave, and for a moment, both pirates were quite silent. Ragetti hadn't considered that, and, judging by the look on Elizabeth's face, she hadn't either. He licked his lips and said, "Oh." Neither pirate had brought anything but the clothes on their backs and their weapons, and he had a sinking feeling that two swords and a pistol with one shot wouldn't do them much good.

"Come on, there _must_ be a way!" she insisted, looking around the cave as though she expected to see a pile of mining equipment nearby. As he had nothing to say, Ragetti remained silent. Elizabeth gave him an annoyed look. "We can't just give up!"

"Wha' else are we s'pposed to do? Pick 'em out wit' our teeth?" he asked, exasperated, as she stalked past him.

"That'd be nice," she said. "You go right ahead."

He rolled his eyes, wincing as the wooden one splintered for what seemed like the millionth time. Rubbing it, he started, "Look...'Lizabeth....We're not gonna be able to get 'em out. Le' it go."

"You're quick to change tact," she retorted angrily.

"I jus' think, maybe, since we're in an underwa'er cave wit' no food and no means o' gettin' 'em out anyways, _maybe_ we should try to conserve our ene'gy 'stead of pickin' rocks out o' the wall." He waited for a response; when he didn't get one, he continued,

"Wouldn' you agree? _Cap'n_?"

To his satisfaction, Elizabeth blinked when he used her self-appointed title. She sighed.

"I'm not saying you're wrong – really, I quite agree – but I've never been one to just...give up." She gazed up at the wall. "They're just so...beautiful."

Ragetti sighed, regretting his willingness to give in, and offered,

"I...I s'pose we could try an' think of a way to get 'em out." She smiled.

For quite a while, the two sat against the cave's wall and pondered possible ways to extract the diamonds from their rocky prison. After what seemed like several fruitless hours, Ragetti stretched and yawned.

"Blimey, it mus' be late." He looked lazily toward Elizabeth. She had dozed off, her head lolling to one side. As he watched, she shivered and pulled at her worn red coat. He hesitated, then shrugged his own jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. Smiling a little in her sleep, she shifted, then was still. Ragetti watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes and fell asleep as well.

* * * *

The first thing Elizabeth noticed upon waking was that she could see. For a moment, she wondered why this was surprising. Then, rubbing her eyes, she remembered where she was. When she leaned over to wake Ragetti, his coat slipped off of her shoulders onto the floor of the cave. Looking down at it, she smiled softly and folded it, placing it next to where he leaned against the wall, snoring softly. Elizabeth then stood, regarding the cave's roof. Light was streaming from a spot hidden by a large stalactite. Walking under it, she looked up to see a cannonball-sized hole in what seemed to be the highest point of the ceiling. Water dripped from the hole, and, as she peered closely through the gap, she saw a sole seabird circling far overhead.

Elizabeth hurried back to where her friend was sleeping, shaking him gently. He woke with a groan.

"Look," she said, pointing towards the hole. Ragetti blinked and walked around the edge of the lake to the ray of light emanating from the hole in the roof.

"Blimey," he murmured. Elizabeth strode over to join him. As they watched, the cave suddenly dimmed as something fairly large floated by. Hearing voices, she realized what it was, and cried,

"They're going to-" She was cut short by Ragetti's hand, with which he had suddenly covered her mouth. Furious, she glared at him until he lowered his hand, putting a finger to his lips. He beckoned, and quickly made his way back to where his jacket lay on the floor. As he pulled it on, Elizabeth gave him an inquiring look. Glancing up, he whispered,

"We're pirates. Do we really want to let 'em know we're 'ere? C'mon," he added, taking her arm and pulling her back towards the lake. "We should go back up."

As he stepped into the water, Elizabeth took one last look at the diamonds in the wall, then followed him.

The swim back seemed easier to Elizabeth, partially because she could see where she was going. Pulling herself through the tunnel with ease, and faster than before, she emerged moments after Ragetti. Gasping for breath – it was still quite a long time to hold one's breath, in her opinion – she waded back to the shore, gazing at the sky. It was calm at the moment, but the clouds swirled around the island, forming an ominous-looking circle in the sky. Ragetti joined her, and the two walked past the rocky outcrop to the beach. There, Elizabeth spotted the same ship they had seen earlier, now closer to this side of the island. They rounded a bend, but before Elizabeth could see what was there, Ragetti pulled her back behind a nearby bush. The look on his face indicated that the dinghy that had passed by the cave had reached its destination. Carefully, she looked around the bend, keeping her head low. There were only two men stepping out of the boat – it seemed that they had just arrived. Narrowing her eyes, she turned back to Ragetti.

"They don't dress like the navy," she whispered. It was true; the men she had seen dressed more like the crew of the _Black Pearl_ than the crew of the _Dauntless_ or the _Interceptor_. He nodded.

"Tha's wha' I though', too," he replied quietly. "I think it _used_ to be navy, though."

Elizabeth glanced toward where the two men were.

"If they're pirates," she murmured, "then maybe they would get us out of here."

"I dunno, 'Lizabeth," Ragetti replied uneasily. "They migh' not be our friends. It'd prob'ly be best to catch 'em off-guard, jus' in case."

"How do you propose we do that?" Elizabeth asked. He hesitated, then whispered his plan. She grinned.

* * * *

The two men pulled the dinghy further out of the water. Then, they looked around, considering where they would find food and other supplies. At that moment, one heard a rustling in the bushes directly in front of him. He elbowed his partner, and they drew their blades nervously, stepping closer the foliage. The rustling continued, and, quite suddenly, a woman burst into the sunlight. She wore nothing but a thin, black garment, and was grinning wildly.

"My saviors!" she cried, stopping about three feet from them. "Oh, thank God! I thought I would be trapped here forever! My father must be so worried; he's probably sent his entire fleet out looking for me!..."

As the woman continued babbling, the men looked at each other. Lowering their blades, they were about to step forward when they felt cold steel at their necks.

"'Ello, mates," they heard from behind them. "Fancy a nap?" They glimpsed the woman grinning triumphantly before everything went black.

* * * *

Elizabeth pulled her old clothes back on over the black undergarment as Ragetti bound the men's hands with the rope she had fetched from her trunk of supplies.

"Glad that worked," she said, as he pulled the men's weapons out of their belts.

"Yeah," he replied. One of the men groaned and opened his eyes. Immediately, Ragetti took out his pistol and aimed it at the man. He whimpered, staring up its barrel.

"What's your name?" Elizabeth asked, not unkindly. Not taking his eyes off the pistol, the man replied,

"M-manning. J-jacob Manning." He looked about twenty, with dark brown hair that fell into his matching eyes.

"And your friend?" she added, glancing at his still-unconscious partner. Manning blinked.

"I- I dunno, actually...I'm still pretty new..." He trailed off. Elizabeth glanced at Ragetti.

"You can put that down now," she told him, and, as he did so, she turned back to Manning. "Who's your captain? Are you pirates?"

He paused for a moment, then, examining his captors more closely, he replied,

"Are you?" Elizabeth was silent. Seeming to understand that _she_ was the one asking the questions, he said, "Yeah. See, the _Intrepid_ used to be a navy ship. I- well, it was my first time, y'know, out at sea. But we were attacked by pirates. Captain P-peralta took over our ship, since his was done for anyway. Anyone who didn't want to join his crew was...sent overboard. I had no choice," he added, a pleading tone in his voice. "I have a woman at home; we're due to be married as soon as I get back! I _had_ to stay!" Elizabeth sighed.

"Shh," she said gently. "I have nothing against pirates" – Ragetti snickered – "and I would have done the same." Manning looked nervous.

"Are...are _you_ pirates?" Glancing at Ragetti, she replied,

"Yes."

"But you're a woman," her captive commented.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," she replied patiently. "But-"

"Are you Elizabeth Swann?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "S-sorry," he said, "it's just...there isn't a man in Britain who hasn't heard your name. Our c-captain's always talking about you, how you killed Lord Beckett and all..."

"Really?" She caught Ragetti's eye. "That's...advantageous. Well," she said, thinking quickly, "I suppose that, if you agree to help us get off this island, I will get you back to your dear love, etcetera. Agreed?" She held out a hand, then remembered that his were still bound and dropped it to her side.

"Agreed," he replied gratefully. She nodded at Ragetti, who untied Manning's hands and helped him to his feet. As he briefly introduced himself, Elizabeth looked down at the other man, who was still drooling onto the sand. Manning followed her gaze.

"Blimey, how hard did you hit him?"

**End of Chapter Six**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Ragetti looked towards the heavens and sighed. The brief period of calm was subsiding quickly, and he knew that soon it would begin to rain once more. Elizabeth had gone to fetch her supplies – and Turner's heart, he supposed – and left him in charge of making sure their newest ally's partner didn't try anything. It was rather dull work, as he was still unconscious. Manning hovered nearby, constantly looking out toward the _Intrepid_.

"So," he said to Ragetti, "that Elizabeth. Is she...taken?" Suddenly annoyed, he replied,

"She ain't int'rested in a relationship at the moment. She 'ad a bad experience, if you get my meanin'."

"With you?" the boy asked impudently.

"Nah. We're jus' friends." Manning snorted.

"_Right_. I'll believe that when I see it." Ragetti turned to face him.

"An' what exac'ly d'you mean by tha'?"

"I'm just saying," the boy said, shrugging. Rolling his eyes, Ragetti resumed watching the other man. He was a portly fellow with a shock of red hair and a sunburnt face to match it. At one point, he stirred, but, to Ragetti's initial disappointment, didn't wake.

"Did she really do everything they say?" interjected Manning, a few minutes later.

"Depends; wha' do they say?" Ragetti inquired apathetically.

"Well," the boy started, "for one thing, they say that she's some sort of pirate lord." The skepticism in his voice was unmistakable. "And that she killed Lord Beckett."

"King, actu'lly," Ragetti replied. "Pirate _king_. An' yeah, Beckett's death was 'er doin'."

"But wasn't she some governor's daughter or something?" the boy continued. Ragetti raised his eyebrows.

"Wha' does _tha_' have to do wit' anythin'?" Before Manning could answer, however, Elizabeth appeared, dragging the large chest around the bend. Glancing at the man on the ground, Ragetti hurried over to help her. Together, they lifted the chest, which was not so much heavy as it was large. Setting it down near the dinghy, they turned to see Manning whispering something to his comrade, who seemed to have finally awakened. After a moment, the man nodded and smiled at Elizabeth. Ragetti looked at her, and, when she nodded, went to untie the ropes around the man's hands.

"Many thanks," the man said in a rather nasally voice, rubbing his wrists. "I'm Munroe, by the way. Richard Munroe." Munroe held out his hand to Elizabeth, who shook it with a look of slight distaste. Completely disregarding Ragetti, he lifted the trunk with a groan and practically threw it into the dinghy. There was a moment of silence. Then, Manning cleared his throat.

"Let's be off, then," he said, sounding nervous. How all four people managed to fit inside the boat remains a mystery, considering the trunk's size – and Munroe's considerable breadth. Ragetti, who sat next to him, could hardy breathe, let alone row, and felt somewhat jealous of Elizabeth's position next to Manning, who, in comparison, was rather thin.

"That's a nice schooner," Elizabeth commented after a quick examination of their destination. "Eight cannons, yeah?"

"Yes," Munroe answered, studying her face. "And four swivels. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," she replied evasively. The waves were increasing in velocity and size, tossing the boat around like a child's bath toy. Catching Ragetti's eye, she raised her eyebrows and looked towards the _Intrepid_ again. He followed her gaze, struggling to hold on to his oar. From what he could see through the rain, it was indeed a nice ship: The wood was a rich, dark brown, the color of hazelnuts. The sails, strained with the wind, were a creamy white, and looked new – there were no patches or tears.

As Ragetti studied the schooner, a particularly large wave collided with the dinghy. Still trying to row, he felt himself flying through the air, and, with a yell, he was swallowed by the tempestuous waves.

Saltwater rushed into his mouth as he hit the water, waves coming at him from all sides...

_He pushed through the crowd, running towards the back; perhaps he could get in through there..._

He waved his arms wildly in all directions, cold rain pelting his face and head. Vaguely, he heard someone shouting his name...

_Looking up, he saw her leaning out of her second-story bedroom window. She called for him, coughing on the black smoke that poured out from inside..._

Slowly, slowly, he was sinking, unable to stay up any longer...

_He reached up, stretching out his arms with a futile hope to catch her...she held out her hand, leaning further out the window– _

* * * *

Elizabeth swam quickly to the spot where her friend had sunk. Nothing was there save for the churning water. _I'm too late_, she thought, dread filling her heart. _Those bloody idiots_.

She had been very close to grabbing Ragetti's arm and preventing what had happened, but Manning had held her back. "It's too dangerous," he had said, not showing any concern whatsoever that her best friend was drowning in the water next to him. Angrily, she had ripped her arms out of his grip only to be stopped by Munroe. His pompous air of chivalry had disappeared, revealing him to be no more than a self-absorbed, angry sailor. "You are _not_," he said coldly, "going in after him." Elizabeth had raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really?" was her response, which was colder, if possible, than Munroe's. Then, with a well-placed kick, she had wrenched her hands out of his and dived in, calling Ragetti's name. By then, however, he had disappeared under the waves.

Suddenly, she felt something brush against her hand and, with a burst of excitement, she grabbed it and pulled upwards, dragging its owner with her. She and Ragetti broke the surface at the same time, both coughing violently and shivering. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, she scanned the water, searching for the dinghy with all her might.

"There!" she heard Ragetti gasp. Looking in the direction he was pointing, she saw the dinghy bobbing precariously in the water about ten yards away. They simultaneously began swimming toward it. When they reached it, Elizabeth grasped the side, exhausted. She peeked over the side of the boat to see that the two sailors were leaning over the other side, arguing as they searched for her.

"You _had_ to push him in!" The irritation in Manning's voice was clear.

"I didn't think she would jump in after him! Most women aren't that stupid!"

"Stupid as _you_, you mean!"

"_You're_ the one that couldn't hold her!"

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. The men were liars! Whatever they intended to do with her, it probably wasn't honest, and _certainly_ wasn't good. On the other hand, they were their only chance at getting off of that island – and each and every one of her possessions was on that dinghy.

"Oy!" she shouted, letting go of Ragetti's hand to wave. "Over here!" Manning jumped and spun around, further unbalancing the boat.

"Oh- oh! Thank God!" he cried, an unconvincing expression of relief on his face. He held out a hand, obviously intended for Elizabeth. Suspiciously, she grabbed Ragetti's arm and helped him climb in before she pulled herself in to sit next to him. Manning had moved across to sit with Munroe, who was glaring at the two pirates.

"You lost the oar, didn't you?" Ragetti blinked indignantly, but before he could respond, Elizabeth cut in.

"I don't know if you noticed," she said icily, "but he almost _drowned_! I have no doubt in my mind that if _he_ was the one struggling in the water," she waved her hand at Manning, who jumped, "you would have actually _done_ something! You have no right to get on him about losing an oar!" Another wave crashed into the dinghy, nearly throwing all of them into the ocean. Glowering, Munroe dipped his oar into the water, forcefully pushing to get them to the _Intrepid_. Elizabeth looked up at it. It was a fine vessel, with dark paint and a sleek build. The sails bulged with an eerie creaking sound as the wind ferociously tore at them, and the rope attached to the anchor was strained almost to the limit. There was no sign of life on board – no lanterns were lit; no man watched them approach from the deck.

To her, it seemed almost ominous.

* * * *

Ragetti shivered as the dinghy bumped into the ship, jarring all four passengers. Manning stood shakily and began climbing up the side of the ship. As he disappeared over the rail, Munroe gestured for Elizabeth to go next. She raised her eyebrows and glanced at Ragetti, nodding at the ladder. He took this as a signal to go and began climbing. As he did so, he heard a crunch and, looking down, saw that Elizabeth was following him. Munroe was clutching his nose and swearing under his breath. Stifling a laugh, he continued up the side of the ship, rain pelting him as he climbed. When he reached the top, he swung his legs over quickly and held out his hand to help Elizabeth on board, which she took. They grinned at each other, then, without warning, her smile faded as she stared past him. Looking around, Ragetti saw Manning walking haughtily toward them, followed by twenty men dressed in the stiff uniforms of the Royal Navy.

He felt Elizabeth stiffen next to him, but dared not move, for at least a dozen bayonets were pointed at his chest. Letting go of her hand, he raised his arms slowly in surrender. She did the same as a tall man stepped out of the crowd into the rain.

The man's dark beard, soaked with the rain but still impressive, rippled over his muscular chest. Though he wore clothing typical of any respectable naval officer, his shoulder-length black hair, loose in the wind, and dangerous expression suggested a personality that was anything but tame. Once another sailor had safely cuffed Ragetti and Elizabeth, the man strode forward with something of a swagger, stopping about an arm's length from the pair.

Thunder cracked as he crossed his arms and surveyed them, his eyes lingering on Elizabeth. Though she had been glaring at their opponents, Ragetti noticed that she suddenly shrank back.

"So this is the famous Elizabeth Swann," he said in a deadly whisper. "I have waited long to meet you, my dear." He stroked her chin menacingly, and Ragetti moved forward angrily, only to be stopped by the sailor behind him. The man's gaze turned to him. His dark gray eyes seemed to look right into Ragetti's mind. A few seconds passed, and he averted his gaze nervously.

After a moment, the man leaned back, and, not taking his eyes off the two, said something to the sailor closest to him. The sailor walked forward cautiously and gestured to them, leading them away from the scene. Obediently, Ragetti followed the man, head hung. In truth, he was contemplating a way out of this mess – a task, as it were, that was not as successful as one would hope – but rebellion didn't seem the best idea at the time. Elizabeth followed closely behind him; he could feel her breath upon his neck. The sailor led them below decks into the brig, where he pushed them in forcefully. He then left them.

Ragetti sighed, his teeth chattering. Looking over at Elizabeth, he braced himself and said,

"Look...'Lizabeth...this's all my faul'. If I hadn'..." he trailed off as Elizabeth started laughing. She shook with mirth and slid to the floor, wrapping her still-manacled arms around her knees. "Er..." he faltered, bewildered.

"Don't you see?" she asked, a broad grin on her face. He shook his head.

"Well," she began, exaggerated patience evident in her smile, "we have just gotten ourselves free passage to wherever this lot are going, we're off of that bloody island, and we're out of the rain. Not to mention, it seemed that they don't want us dead _quite_ yet. What more could we ask for?" He grinned, seeing the bright side of their situation. However, his glee faded as he had a sudden thought.

"'Lizabeth?"

"Yeah?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Wha' abou' Turner's chest?"

**End of Chapter Seven**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Elizabeth blinked, and her mouth opened slightly in dismay. Ragetti was right; everything she owned, besides the clothes on her back, was in that chest – and, consequentially, in the hands of the man she could only assume was Captain Peralta. Suddenly, she felt hopeless and extremely unintelligent.

"_God_ I'm stupid!" she said to herself, cursing her idiocy. Not noticing what her friend was doing to her left, she buried her face in her hands. At that moment, she heard a metallic _thud_, and, looking up, she saw Ragetti rubbing his freed wrists, the manacles on the floor next to him. Seeing her watching, he grinned.

"Thin wrists," he said with a wink. Ignoring him, she stared at the damp wooden floor between her boots. "Oy," he said gently, sitting next to her and putting his arm comfortingly around her shoulder. "'s gonna be alrigh'. Alrigh'?" Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, then looked up at him, catching his gaze.

"You know..." she started reluctantly, "after all this time...I don't even know your first name." Ragetti chuckled mirthlessly.

"I was wonderin' when you was gonna ask tha'," he replied. Elizabeth detected a hint of sadness in his one blue eye.

"Well?"

"See...I don' really...'ave one. Tha' I know of, tha' is. I mean, Pintel always jus' called me Ragetti. Guess it stuck."

"Oh," she acknowledged, unsure of what else to say. Ragetti removed his arm from her shoulder awkwardly, clasping his hands in his lap. After a minute, Elizabeth started,

"I-"

At the same moment, her friend began,

"You-"

Both fell silent, then she nodded at Ragetti, indicating that he should talk.

"'s jus'...you say you knew...Delilah?" Elizabeth nodded again.

"Yes, she was my best friend back when I lived in England," she said, smiling a little at the memories. "We were practically inseparable, even though she was four years older."

"An' you lived in England 'til you were..."

"Twelve."

"Ah." He hesitated. "Did she ever...mention me...at all?" Elizabeth stared at him for a moment. Catching her gaze, he added, "We were jus'...I- I mean, I fancied her, bu'...we weren'..."

"You know, I think she did," Elizabeth replied. "Yes, I remember. She always talked about...oh, you'll laugh."

"Will no'." he said indignantly.

"Don't," she insisted. "She always talked about her...her 'Prince Charming'. That's _all _she talked about, really. Described him as...tall, and clever, thin, and- and handsome, with hair of gold and sapphire eyes. I always assumed that she was making it up, telling stories."

Ragetti snorted.

"An' you think tha's me?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

"Who else could it be?"

"Would _you_ describe me like tha'? Hones'ly?"

"I don't see why not," she replied simply.

At that moment, a door creaked open, rain and wind rushing through the brig. As her friend stiffened next to her, Elizabeth put her arms on her knees and again covered her face, attempting to find a way out of the mess she had brought upon herself.

"There, there, don' you cry...V'ronica," she heard Ragetti say in an unusually loud, clear tone of voice. She almost looked up, but he held her head down. "Go wit' it," he whispered urgently. Nodding slightly, she shook with imaginary sobs. Looking through the gaps between her fingers, she watched him walk over to the bars of their cell. He turned around and called, "Oy!", gaining the attention of the guard that had walked in a moment before.

"What do you want?" the man responded curtly. He was a thin, young man, in his early twenties at best, but he looked strong. Ragetti cleared his throat and continued.

"I think there's been a bi' of a misunderstandin'," he replied. "Y'see, we're no' really pirates. No, don' look like tha'", he said quickly, and Elizabeth saw that the guard looked rather skeptical. "Me an'...I mean, _V'ronica_ an' I, we're jus' as hones' an'...not..._piratey_ as you. Thing is, we though' tha' you lot were pirates, so we disguised ourselves. Tha's all."

The guard crossed his arms, a look of utter disbelief evident on his pockmarked face.

"If you aren't pirates, what are you? It's not every day you see a woman dressed like _that,_" he said uneasily, nodding at Elizabeth. She hurriedly feigned another sob.

"We're from the vessel..._Endeavor_, crossin' from London. Well, _she's_ crossin' from London. I jus' works on it. But, 'bout a fortnigh' ago, we was attacked by pirates. I dunno wha' their ship was called," he added, thoughtfully stroking his chin, "bu' it 'ad black sails."

By now, the guard's look of skepticism had faded and been replaced by a mildly interested expression.

"Anyways, the _Endeavor_ survived, bu' on'y jus'. T'was real thrashed when this storm star'ed. It tossed us righ' into a reef. As far as I know, there wasn't any survivors, save us two."

"You still haven't explained her clothes," the guard commented, though he looked more as though he believed their story.

"They're mine," Ragetti replied suavely. "I let 'er borrow 'em so we could disguise ourselves better." The guard hesitated, glancing about.

"Even if you _aren't_ pirates, I can't just...let you out. I've been given orders, you know."

"It's no' tha'," Ragetti said quickly. "You don' need to le' us out. 's just...she's got somethin' of 'er lover's in tha' chest. Friend o' mine. He was goin' to propose," he added in a whisper, as though he didn't want Elizabeth to hear. She gasped as though surprised, then resumed her imitation of a complete breakdown. "I don' think he survived, though," he continued, shaking his head sadly. The guard glanced at Elizabeth, looking troubled.

"It is _really _importan' to 'er," Ragetti added quickly, trying to invoke the boy's sense of right and wrong – in a way.

"I'll see what I can do," he sighed. "But it won't be easy reasoning with the captain."

"Why's tha'?" Ragetti asked. The guard gave a noncommittal jerk of the head, earning a sympathetic nod.

"No' the bes' captain you've 'ad?"

"The _only_ captain I've had," the boy responded disgustedly, "but not by any means good."

"Wha's he like?" Ragetti asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"He-" the sailor started angrily, but then he looked around quite nervously. "I- I can't say. My job's at stake as it is. I...I'll try to help you out, mate, but I dunno if I can."

"You're a diamond," said the pirate to the sailor, clapping him on the back through the bars with some difficulty. The guard turned around.

"Wait- wha'd you say your name was?" Ragetti called after the guard.

"John," the man replied, looking back at them. "Jonathan Mardling."

Hesitating for a moment, Mardling hurried up the stairs, wringing his hands. The moment the door slammed shut behind him, Ragetti turned to Elizabeth, pulling a rather rusty key ring from his sleeve. "Always 'ad a thing for pickpocketin'," he said craftily, kneeling next to her and gently releasing her arms. Rubbing her wrists, Elizabeth stood and pulled her friend into a hug.

"Did I ever tell you how brilliant you are?"

* * * *

Jonathan Mardling took a deep breath and stepped into the rain. He had not been fooled by the pirate's story, well-composed though it was. However, he had taken a liking to the man – if not for his sympathy, then for his talent at storytelling under pressure. In any case, it was a chance to distract the captain long enough to get a rest.

"Oy," he called at a couple of nearby sailors. "Where's the captain?"

"Why d'you want to know, runt?" one asked nastily, but the other replied,

"In his cabin, writin' a letter to the duke, I s'pose." With a quick nod, Mardling continued on, wiping his dripping hair out of his face. He knocked sharply on the door to the captain's cabin with a sigh. Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the rain-soaked, near-deserted deck of the _Intrepid_.

"Come in," came the curt reply. Bracing himself, Mardling opened the door and hastily stepped in, closing it with some difficulty against the wind. The captain, who was sitting at his desk, put his quill down and glared impatiently at the boy.

"Captain," he started, clearing his throat, "I- the prisoners have a- a request, so to speak. They-"

"_Please_ tell me you didn't leave them unattended," the captain interjected coldly. At that moment, the door burst open, letting in a torrent of swirling rain. Through the haze, the two pirates stepped inside, weapons in hand.

* * * *

Ragetti grinned unpleasantly as Elizabeth aimed her pistol carefully at the captain's skull, closing the cabin door with her other hand. The cabin was nicely decorated and very roomy, with large windows on each wall and a desk the color of bloodstained wood – a deep, attractive color. A sizeable bed was situated in the corner, neatly made with bedding that matched the desk. Overall, it was a very respectable-looking place. Finishing his inspection, Ragetti returned his attention to Elizabeth.

"Now, is that any way to negotiate?" the captain was asking coolly, his slate-gray eyes flitting between the pistol and the woman holding it.

"I've found it rather effective in the past," she retorted, nodding at Ragetti. Remembering the plan the two had devised after escaping the brig, he strode quickly over to the corner opposite the bed, where their trunk sat. He carefully picked it up, brought it to the door and set it down at her feet. Then, for good measure, he took out his pistol and aimed it at Mardling.

"You tricked me! And I was helping you!" the boy exclaimed, paling slightly as he looked down the barrel.

"Is that so?" the captain asked dangerously, his eyes not straying from Elizabeth. Before Mardling could answer, Ragetti interjected,

"We ain't 'ere to make conv'sation." The captain's gaze turned to him.

"Then what is it that you desire? You have your effects, what more do you need?"

"I propose a challenge," Elizabeth said boldly. "A duel, using only swords, and no man is to assist either of us at any time." Her voice wavered slightly as the man looked her coldly in the eyes, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him.

"And the winner?" he inquired quietly.

"The winner," she responded impassively, "takes this ship and its crew for their own, and decides the fate of the other." At this, Ragetti looked over at her, surprised. This had not been part of their original plan.

For several minutes, the man said nothing. He and Elizabeth glared at each other, as tense and still as cats in the midst of a hunt. Then, the captain replied,

"I accept."

**End of Chapter Eight**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"'Lizabeth, you can' do this. 'f you lose, God knows wha' he'll do to you," Ragetti insisted, five minutes after their encounter with the captain. Their possessions had been returned to them, and Elizabeth was now practicing with her sword.

"Well then," she replied, slightly annoyed at his lack of faith in her ability, "I won't lose." She sheathed her sword as Mardling walked in, shaking the rainwater out of his hair.

"The captain is ready for you," he said uneasily. He was sporting a black eye that resembled a ripe plum in its texture and color, and watched the two pirates warily.

"Did the captain do tha' t'you?" Elizabeth heard Ragetti ask the boy as she hid her pistol in her boot, just in case.

"Aye," he replied, "no thanks to you two."

"If we hadn't threatened you as well," Elizabeth interjected, turning to face them, "your captain would have suspected something. You should have stayed quiet."

Mardling shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. Pushing past him, Elizabeth strode boldly out. She was trying to appear more confidant than she felt.

Her deadly adversary was waiting for her on deck. Elizabeth faced him, gripping her sword tightly and trying to ignore the incessant rain that pelted every inch of exposed skin. Her clothes and hair were already soaked.

"The terms?" Peralta asked, only just loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves.

"I believe that's already been settled," she replied warily. The man chuckled softly.

"Indulge me." Elizabeth tried not to let her annoyance show.

"A duel," she informed him steadily, "in which only swords are to be used. The winner takes the _Intrepid_ along with its crew and supplies, and decides what is to become of the loser, however horrid that fate may be."

"Are you sure," the man replied, "that this is your choice? You could still back out."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not a coward." The captain smiled unpleasantly.

"So be it." He drew his sword menacingly as his crew, who had gathered in a circle around the two, chuckled. Elizabeth adopted a ready stance, giving Ragetti one last look. Thus, the duel began.

Elizabeth met the man's first blow in midair, her arms trembling at the strength with which he pushed her. She spun away, wet blade glinting in a flash of lightning. Thunder rumbled as she ran back towards him, swinging her sword at his neck. Her blow, however, was deflected swiftly. She ducked as his blade sliced the air over her head, missing her by less than an inch. _He's good!_ she thought, parrying another blow. As she spun around again, her braid whipping through the air, he started to laugh – an deep, unnerving sound.

Elizabeth jumped as thunder cracked, giving her opponent just the chance he needed. He knocked her sword out of her hand with an incredibly strong blow. It went skidding across the wet deck, stopping near Mardling's feet. Angrily, Elizabeth aimed a kick between Peralta's legs, causing him to drop his blade. Swearing, he reached out toward her and tried to close his hands around her neck. She then punched him in the jaw, ducking out of the reach of his bloody hands. He fell to the floor and slid across the wet deck, coming to a halt in a large puddle of water. In a moment, the astonished captain was on his back, staring up at the woman holding her blade to his neck. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth and nose. Triumphantly, Elizabeth declared,

"I win."

Without warning, a huge wave crashed over the deck, causing Elizabeth to lose her balance. Her opponent took advantage of her slip, scrambling to his feet and picking up his dripping blade from the deck. With a snarl, he himself toward her, and, before she knew what was happening, he was grasping her forearms with an iron grip.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," he growled, reaching for something out of her sight. Elizabeth gasped and struggled fiercely as he pulled a pistol out of his coat and held it to her chest.

"No!" Ragetti's voice echoed across the deck, but two sailors held him back. Smiling evilly and looking Elizabeth in the eyes, the captain pulled the trigger.

* * * *

"_No_!" Ragetti shouted again, struggling helplessly as Elizabeth twitched involuntarily, her eyes and mouth open wide. Flinching, he waited to hear that last gasp of breath; to see his best friend fall to the ground, limp and fatally wounded; to experience the wave of anger, fear, and sadness he knew would occur at the same moment.

It didn't come.

Opening his eyes, Ragetti watched as she grinned feistily, kicking the captain again.

"Wet powder!" she shouted at him, escaping his grip and reaching for her sword. Mardling kicked it to her, laughing with relief. She crouched down to grasp her blade, still smiling. And for just a moment, she looked away.

"Look ou'!" Ragetti shouted, seeing Elizabeth's opponent running toward her. As he watched, Elizabeth threw herself to the side. Peralta's sword sliced through her braid, cutting it off about halfway down. It landed with a dull thud on the ground as its previous owner rolled over and stood, brandishing her weapon.

"Oy!" she cried angrily. With more ferocity than before – if that was possible – she thrust her blade toward the captain, ripping his expensive-looking coat. She parried another blow and danced away, laughing viciously. The wind began blowing harder, pelting the bystanders with rain like bullets from an endless supply of guns. Despite the rain, even more crew members came to watch, gaining interest in the epic battle raging between their captain and the girl. Many chatted among themselves. Ragetti, however, remained silent. Every swipe at Elizabeth was a strike at him; every time she took a hit, he almost felt the pain. He watched anxiously as she began to lose.

Blow by blow, Peralta was moving her backwards toward the railing opposite Ragetti. She didn't seem to realize this. Her now-shorter hair blew about freely in the wind, often sticking wetly to her face; her arms and legs were trembling slightly. In a moment, she was up against the rail. Lightning flashed as the captain swung at her neck-

"I don't think so!" she cried, spinning away from him. His blade buried itself in the rail, getting stuck about two inches down. With a flash of lightning, Elizabeth pulled her pistol from her boot, holding it to the back of her opponent's neck.

"That," she declared, "is the second time I've won. Are you going to keep cheating, or shall I keep you alive?" The captain didn't answer. "What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked mockingly. "Afraid to lose to a woman?"

Grudgingly, Peralta turned to face her, hands held high in the air.

"So what will you do to me, Elizabeth Swann?" he inquired softly – Ragetti could barely hear him. Edging in closer, he listened closely.

"Will you kill me?" the captain asked in a deadly whisper. "Or will you be cruel? Will you force me to live?" Elizabeth did not look troubled.

"I will not force you to live," she responded coolly. "Nor will I force you to die. That's your choice." The man looked slightly unnerved that _he _was no longer unsettling _her_. "However," she continued, "I want you off this ship."

"And how will you justify that?" Peralta asked quickly. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"I believe that, since I won the duel, _I_ get to decide your fate, good sir. But, if you want proper justification, I won't deprive you. As captain, I am punishing for cheating in a duel, the unreasonable treatment of your crew" – At this, Mardling grinned and elbowed Ragetti in the ribs – "and taking my possessions. Mr. Ragetti!"

"Yes, cap'n?" Trying to keep a straight face, he strode forward.

"I want this man off of my ship. Prepare a dinghy." She climbed up onto the railing, balancing herself carefully. To the remaining crew, who now stared at her with awe, she cried,

"I am captain now! If you don't want to serve under me, so be it! This ship will make port as soon as possible; you may leave then – unless you'd like to go with your _former_ captain."

As one, the crew glanced at Peralta and took a step back.

"Have no worries," she continued, as Ragetti led Peralta to a dinghy loaded with some food and water. "You will not be considered a pirate unless you choose to stay. I am giving you this choice. But I will tell you one thing." Ragetti looked up at her.

"Being a pirate," she started, more gently than before, "is not all about robbing, and killing, and burning. Yes, we do all that, but it's more. Being a pirate is freedom. Knowing that you have less restrictions than anyone else; knowing that you can do so much more because you don't have to live up to anyone's standards. There are no uniforms, no ceremonies, no pomp and circumstance. You make a living by the sweat of your brow, and the strength of your back." Though muffled by the rain and crashing waves, her words seemed to ring across the deck.

"You have until we make port to decide. Good night."

* * * *

Elizabeth jumped down from the railing as the single dinghy tossed in the waves below. Nodding at Ragetti, she walked steadily to the captain's cabin, sheathing her sword and replacing her pistol in her boot. Opening the door, she stepped in. It was quite dark.

She felt her way to the desk, finding the chair and taking a seat. Her hands roved over the desk until she found a candle. Carefully, she lit it, and, too tired to care, she placed it in an empty tea cup on the desk. Yawning, she picked up what looked to her like an unfinished letter. It read,

_My old friend,_

_The task you requested so long ago is finally completed. Elizabeth Swann is captured at last. I shall bring the prisoner to you immediately, along with her possessions and accomplice. _

_On a lighter note-_

There was no more. Peralta's writing had been interrupted, Elizabeth assumed, by her visit to the captain's cabin. _Her_ cabin. Suddenly, the door opened, making her jump.

"'Lizabeth?" Ragetti cautiously poked his head around the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, yes, of course," she replied. He walked in and took a seat on the bed. "Look at this," she added, handing him the letter.

"I...Y' _know_ I can' read," he admitted shamefacedly. Elizabeth reddened slightly; she had forgotten about his illiteracy.

"Someone's looking for me. They want me alive, and they want me _now_." Ragetti didn't look nearly as concerned about this as she had hoped.

"Well, y' _are_ a pirate. Ever' pirate's wan'ed."

"But-"

"'Lizabeth," Ragetti interrupted – something Elizabeth only allowed because it was him – "Calm down. You've 'ad a big day, you need res'. _I _need res'. Ge' some sleep." And with a quick smile, he strode quickly out the door, shutting it quietly. Rain pattered against the cabin's roof. Elizabeth sighed, frustrated, and stepped over to the neatly made bed, dousing the candle with her thumb and forefinger. Pulling off her worn, wet boots, she curled up under the covers and closed her eyes, falling slowly into an uneasy slumber.

**End of Chapter Nine**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_Looking around frantically, the boy with the straw colored hair rushed to the tree next to the burning household. Another scream rang through the air as he began to climb the large oak with surprising agility, panting heavily and coughing in the thick smoke that enveloped his face. _

_A large branch extended nearly to the side of the house. He cared not whether it was strong enough to support him (though it looked to him like it might); its end was only slightly more than arm's length from the second-story bedroom window. Resolutely, he dropped to his hands and knees onto the branch and crawled phrenetically to the window. _

_The boy heard something crack and flinched, but, after a moment, he decided that it was merely the demise of some doomed piece of furniture inside the doomed house. Out of the window leaned a beautiful girl, her round face dark with ash and soot; her long, dark hair was singed. The shadows of flames danced mockingly on her olive-colored skin, while smoke poured out from behind her. She reached toward him, her expression a strange mixture of fear and calm, as if she was perfectly aware that her life was in his hands, and accepted it. His arm seemed to move of its own accord, stretching toward her. Their fingers touched-_

_Suddenly, there was a sharp crack, and Delilah fell backwards into the flames._

* * * *

Ragetti woke. Or rather, he became aware of himself, but didn't acknowledge where he was, or who he was, or what time it was. Nor did he care. His head was throbbing unpleasantly, and, as he slowly returned to awareness, he found that he was quite wet. With a start, he realized that his hands were bound and his mouth gagged with a rough strip of cloth that tasted rather disgusting. He gave an involuntary gasp as he opened his eyes to see two sailors standing over him, one of them holding a blade to his neck.

"Well, well," the other murmured nastily, crossing his arms. He wore a plain cotton shirt and trousers, as opposed to the crisp uniform of the Royal Navy. "Lookie here, Winfield. He's only got one eye."

"Did yer sweet'eart cut it out?" Winfield asked, smirking as he glanced up towards the captain's cabin. Ragetti struggled against his bindings, earning a sharp kick in the side.

"None of that, now," the burly sailor said, unfolding his arms and wagging his finger tauntingly in front of the helpless pirate. Wincing at the pain, Ragetti looked around. He was leaning against the hull, next to one of the ship's cannons. Water sloshed in, soaking him to the skin. _Well, at least it's not raining_, he thought. The storm had finished two days after Elizabeth's battle with the former captain. Ragetti leaned back, closing his eyes in defeat. Why it had taken four days for the sailors to consider capturing him, he didn't know. A thought struck him, and he straightened up.

"Where's 'Lizabeth?" he demanded, his voice muffled. In answer, the burly sailor kicked Ragetti on the side of his head. Through the cloth, he cried out with pain; his wooden eye popped out and rolled across the floor. Winfield stooped to pick it up, and his sharp blade left a thin line of blood on the pirate's neck.

"Give it here," the other man said, and Winfield tossed it to him. Ragetti watched helplessly through a haze of pain as they tossed the wooden sphere back and forth, their throws constantly increasing in height and strength. Warm blood trickled down the pirate's neck. Then, to his horror, he watched as Winfield threw the eye over the other sailor's head. It never hit the ground.

Elizabeth Swann stood in the doorway, one hand clenched in midair where she had caught the source of their amusement. With her other hand, she was deliberately aiming a pistol at Winfield. "Untie him."

* * * *

Elizabeth staggered into her cabin, supporting Ragetti with one arm. Closing the heavy door behind her, she helped her friend to the unmade bed at the other side of the cabin. She hadn't had time to tidy up – Ragetti's yell had woken her and she had rushed to help as fast as she could pull her boots on. With a groan, her friend collapsed onto the bed.

"Thanks,"he grunted after a moment, his head in his hands. She didn't respond, but gently pressed a wet cloth to the side of his head. The left side of his face was swollen, and already it was beginning to turn purple.

"What did they do to your face?" she asked, appalled. Taking another strip of cloth from her desk, she wiped the blood off of his neck.

"Kicked me," he mumbled through his fingers. There were angry red welts on his wrists where the rope had been tied too tightly. Elizabeth stared sadly at him for a moment, then blinked.

"Here," she said abruptly, pulling something out of her pocket. Ragetti lowered his hands, and she gave him his wooden eye. She watched with some distaste as he replaced it with a sickening _pop_, though she managed to refrain from shuddering as she usually did.

"Really got me good, didn' 'e?" he commented lightly, gingerly feeling the side of his head. His tone had a bitter edge to it. Unsure of what to say, Elizabeth slumped down in the high-backed chair behind her. The distant, longing cry of seagulls rang through the air as Ragetti pulled a worn leather-bound book out of his jacket. On the cover was a small cut neatly into the cover. As she watched, he opened it and carefully inserted his fingers under the first page. He gently dislodged it from the consecutive page, and deliberately turned it. After repeating this process several times, he shivered somewhat and wiped his hair out of his face, where it stuck in odd angles to his forehead. Elizabeth realized with a jolt that he was quite wet, and, cursing herself for not noticing sooner, grabbed a wool blanket from the foot of her bed and draped it around his shoulders. He looked up.

"Dunno why I'm doin' this," he said sheepishly, placing the book in his lap and drawing the blanket around him. "This ol' thing ain't done me much good. But 'ey, I'm alive, ain't I? An' no' cursed...s'pose tha's a blessin' in itself." He was now staring out the window, and Elizabeth got the feeling that he wasn't quite talking to her anymore. "Thing is, 's all I've go'. I can' even read it, bu'...I dunno..." He glanced at her. "You'll think it's stupid."

"I will not," Elizabeth retorted indignantly. Her friend looked doubtful. "_Really_. I won't."

"Well...it jus' feels..._nice_. H-havin' somethin'...some_one_...t' b'lieve in. Y'know?" He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "I mean, I don' know anythin' 'bout this. Nothin'. Bu' 's jus'...nice..." As he trailed off, Elizabeth sat up quite suddenly.

"Seagulls!" she gasped, jumping up. Running to the window opposite her, she looked out and saw a large island. Many ships hovered around the dock she could see, swarming to port like bees to flowers. A town was barely visible behind the forest of masts and sails; a town full of pirates and honest men alike. She turned to the door as it burst open.

"Captain!"

"Oh- Mardling." she faltered, wincing as the boy snapped to attention. "You...you don't need to do that..." In the past four days, the boy had quickly made the transition from unlikely ally to enthusiastic supporter. To Elizabeth's delight, he had been able to help her relate to some of the crew, ensuring her two members besides himself.

"Right," he gasped, relaxing. "Captain, the navigator is going to the island. I can't stop him, he won't-"

"That's all right," she interrupted. "I promised we'd make port as soon as possible. Let him." The boy nodded and turned to leave, but paused.

"Captain, is...is that Tortuga?" he asked. Elizabeth glanced at the island once more.

"Yes," she replied. The motley array of ships ported at the dock was enough to make up her mind. Mardling stared at it for a moment, then hastily ducked out of the cabin. Elizabeth winced as he slammed the door behind him. Sighing, she turned to Ragetti, who was still staring glumly at the book in his lap.

"You know, all you have to do is ask," she stated frankly. He looked up.

"Wha'?"

"Here," she said, holding out her hand. He hesitantly gave her the small book. Balancing it in one hand, she delicately turned one of the pages that had already dried. The writing was small and somewhat blurred, but reasonably legible. She smiled at him, trying not to laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"I'll teach you how to read," she said firmly. "And write, if you want. All you have to do is ask." As she watched, his look of confusion melted into a shy smile, and, blushing slightly, her friend replied,

"All righ'." A moment passed in which Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to calm herself sufficiently enough that she would stop grinning like an idiot. Ragetti chuckled softly to himself.

"There's another blessin'," he sighed contentedly. "I've go' you."

**End of Chapter Ten**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Jonathan Mardling stepped jubilantly onto the dock, relishing the freedom with which he could move his arms. He had traded his stiff naval uniform for loose trousers and a plain cotton shirt, keeping only the boots (which had been quite expensive). In an effort to be bold, he had even let loose his thick, dark hair. This he regretted, however, as the wind again pushed it into his face. Brushing it out of his eyes, he gazed with wonder at the town of Tortuga.

The sun, red and bloated, set gracefully behind the island's rocky hills in a blaze of fiery light, casting irregular shadows over the town. Odd ships of various sizes were tied at the dock. Some sported flags with strange symbols, most of which involving a skull; others had mismatched sails that were tattered beyond repair. All of them looked well-worn and sturdy.

"Move along, boy!" Jonathan stumbled to the side as a sailor impatiently elbowed past him, swearing under his breath. Rubbing his forearm, the boy backed away from the ship, watching as most of his former crewmates hurried away from the _Intrepid_. Their crisp uniforms looked almost comical as they hurried into the town.

"They won't last long." Jonathan jumped and turned to see an old, weathered sailor leaning on what seemed to be a keg of rum. "That lot. No, they won't last long," he growled knowingly. Without warning, he turned and vomited into the water.

"Ugh!" Jonathan gagged, as brine and bile splattered his face. The sailor looked up, smacking his lips.

"Ye'll get used to it, boy," the man croaked, clearing his throat and taking a swig from his canteen. When he had finished, the sailor looked Jonathan over, raising an eyebrow at his new leather boots. "Say...ye ain't lookin' fer a crew, by any chance...?" The boy started.

"Oh...er...well, I..." Feeling quite helpless, he glanced toward the _Intrepid_. The man followed his gaze.

"Ah, ye're...hang on," the sailor interrupted himself, his graying sideburns quivering. His voice became low and tense. "That's not..._please_ tell me that's not Elizabeth Swann." Jonathan looked over his shoulder to see Elizabeth striding purposefully down the gangplank. Turning back to the man, he nodded.

"I'm afraid so," he said uncertainly. "Er...why?" The sailor only groaned and dashed unsteadily towards the town. Dumbfounded, Jonathan turned around to find himself face to face with his captain.

"Hello, Mar- er, Jonathan," Elizabeth said brightly. "May I call you that? Good. I was wondering-"

"Captain!" As another sailor rushed up to her, anger flashed in her eyes, so quickly that Jonathan wondered if he had imagined it. "Captain, we're out of rum, we didn't have much-"

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Gillian. Er...be back here by noon tomorrow, yeah?" The man nodded and hurried away. With a swift grin, she turned back to Jonathan.

"Anyway," she continued, "I was wondering, um...your captain – your _old_ captain – did he...oh, I dunno, give you any last instructions, or- or anything?" He blinked, and Elizabeth grimaced impatiently. "Anything at all?"

"Well...yes," he replied slowly. He had been instructed not to speak of what he had been told. _But he's not my captain anymore_, the boy thought smugly. "He- well, I don't know why, but..." He shrank back as his captain raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "He told us to- to do what you say, and," he closed his eyes, "and to watch you." He lowered his head apologetically.

"Do you mean to say," Elizabeth inquired in a low, deadly voice, "that Peralta's _spies_ are now walking away from this ship, free to divulge anything and everything they've learned about me to anyone they want?" He nodded shamefacedly. "And you didn't tell me this?"

"Well, _I_ wasn't going to tell!" Jonathan cried in self-defense. His captain sighed.

"I have enemies, Jonathan. People who want me dead. _Dead_. Does that mean anything to you?" He winced, feeling the intensity with which she was staring at him. _Good job_, he thought to himself. _You haven't been part of the crew for a week and you've already gotten into trouble_. He glanced up as Elizabeth looked towards the town.

"Captain?" he ventured meekly. "I...I'm sorry. I- I didn't..." He winced as his voice broke pitifully. She turned and studied him for a moment, looking deep into his forest-green eyes. He had always prided himself for his eyes – all of his family had dark eyes, and he had only ever met one other person with eyes the color of his own.

"I know you didn't mean anything by it, Jonathan," Elizabeth said slowly. "It's all right. I'm not angry." He noticed, however, that her shoulders had become extremely tense, as if she was standing at attention, and there was a hint of stiffness in her voice. She hid this with a bright smile, which he knew wasn't genuine. "Just...next time, _think_." With a wink, she turned and strode quickly back to the _Intrepid_.

"Noon tomorrow," he said out loud. "I'd better get a move on." Glancing up at the black-sailed ship which towered above him, he started off towards the many inns of Tortuga.

* * * *

Ragetti stood with his arms folded, inspecting the ship's supplies. There was very little water, he noticed, and even less rum. _Must've been out a while_, he thought knowingly, glancing at the gunpowder. There was plenty of it, and the pile of cannonballs next to it was quite voluminous as well. This struck him as odd, but before he could further investigate, he heard Elizabeth call his name.

"I'm down 'ere," he called in response. With a clatter, she practically threw herself down the stairs, skidding to a halt not five inches from the wall. "Wha's wrong?"

"We have problems," she replied urgently. He raised his eyebrows. "I just talked to Mardling," she continued rapidly. "He says that some of those men were spying on me. On _us_. _And_ that they're reporting back to Peralta!"

"Why?" he asked, bewildered. "Wha' would they do tha' for?"

"I don't know, that's the problem!" Her eyes were wild, her hair flying haphazardly out of its braid.

"Okay, 'Lizabeth, calm down. We jus' need to-"

"I don't know what to do. I've done everything wrong!" While he watched, she burst into tears. Glancing at the wooden stairs that led to the deck, he walked over to her and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"It'll be all right, 'Lizabeth...you're doin' fine. Calm-" She pulled him into a tight hug, her tears subsiding slightly. He stiffened, again glancing at the staircase, then wrapped his arms loosely around her.

"It's been a year," she said quietly, her voice somewhat muffled. Ragetti remained quiet, unsure of what she was talking about. "A year since Will...since he..." _Ah_, he thought, _so that's what's bothering her_.

"Hey," he said, in his most soothing voice. "Hey. Look at me." She did so, her eyes slightly reddened from the tears. "Tha' means you only 'ave nine years t' go." Gently, he unwrapped her arms from around him. "You should go 'ave a drink or somethin'. The _Faithful Bride_'s my favorite, if you need any ideas." With a slight smile, Elizabeth wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her well-worn red coat.

"That sounds good," she said quietly.

"I'll stay an' guard this lot," he continued, gesturing at the gunpowder. "An' see what we need more of." His friend looked at him with gratefully.

"I'll bring you a drink," she offered, grinning when he nodded. "Back in a few." She hurried up the wooden steps. _Women_, Ragetti thought to himself. _I'll never understand them_. He slowly lit a lantern and returned to his work, wondering why he suddenly felt so sad.

* * * *

Though night had fallen, the town of Tortuga was bustling with activity. Flickering candlelight poured from every window, illuminating the many people on the streets. Elizabeth strolled jauntily down the dirt road, trying to forget her worries – a task which, surprisingly enough, was not proving difficult. The comical shouts of drunken men and women alike would have been enough to lighten her mood at any time, and, having been away from civilization for months, it was music to her ears. She halted in front of the _Faithful Bride_, staring at the crude painting on the sign. It was of a lovely young woman in a wedding gown, looking rather forlorn with handcuffs on her wrists. Elizabeth started to laugh softly, then stopped, wondering what had come over her.

"Captain!" She looked away to see Mardling stumbling toward her, an empty mug in one hand. "Captain. I've made a friend. He's really nice. He wants to join the crew." He chuckled, a giddy grin on his face. "He's really nice...so nice..." With a hiccup, he dropped to the ground like a stone.

"Blimey, how much did he have?" Elizabeth asked the boy who had followed Mardling out. He had slight shoulders and a wry look on his face, which was shadowed by a large tricorn similar to Elizabeth's. His clothes were very loose on him; his feet were bare.

"Too much," the boy replied in a soft French accent. His voice was fairly high-pitched; he couldn't have been over fourteen.

"And, er, what's your name?" The boy blinked. "I'll need to know your name if you want to join my crew," Elizabeth added patiently.

"Oh- I'm...Laurent."

"Laurent," she repeated suspiciously. The boy nodded.

"Laurent Phillipe, sir," Laurent replied. Elizabeth sighed, glancing again at the wooden sign. It swung in the warm, tropical breeze.

"Don't call me that. Captain, if you want. But not 'sir'." The boy had a strange look of satisfaction in his dark brown eyes, but did not pursue the topic. Elizabeth glanced at Mardling, "We'd better get him out of the middle of the road, he'll be trampled." _Or murdered_, she added to herself. Together, she and Laurent dragged him around the _Faithful Bride_ to the pigsty. Elizabeth noticed that the boy looked somewhat disgusted as they dropped him into the mud.

"This is probably the safest place for him," she said, pulling a muddy cloth over his boots so they wouldn't be stolen, "and he's close by. Come on." She wiped her hands on her already dirty trousers and walked quickly back to the inn's door. Laurent scampered after her, bare feet padding softly in the dirt.

"If you don't mind my asking, Captain, what are we doing?" the boy asked as they entered the inn. A fiddler stood in the corner, playing a jaunty duet with a pudgy accordionist, both stomping wildly to the music. Men of all ages and races laughed and drank together, doggedly trying to gain the attention of the barmaids. Elizabeth laughed loudly as one, a thick man with a long, greying beard, snatched at one of the ladies. A moment later, he ran out, swearing and clutching his bleeding nose. She turned to Laurent.

"I need a crew," she called over the music. "And here's where I'm going to get it." Glancing around, she pushed through the crowd to an unoccupied table next to the wall. She sat carefully in the decrepit wooden chair next to it, pulling a piece of parchment and a quill out of her jacket. Digging through her pockets, she retrieved the bottle of ink she had brought from the _Intrepid_ and opened it, placing it next to the parchment. "Ah...Laurent?" The boy, who had been watching the musicians zealously, jumped and stuttered,

"Yes, Captain?"

"Get me some recruits," Elizabeth ordered firmly, "and a drink." The boy grinned and scuffled off towards the bar. She leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the musicians, who had started an even faster tune.

"S'cuse me,"she heard over the noise. Reluctantly opening one eye, she studied the man who had appeared in front of her. He had the appearance of a normal, law abiding person, Elizabeth noted, until one noticed the deadly-looking rapier hanging from his belt. "I'm a carpenter, and I'm a devil with the blade." Elizabeth blinked.

"Welcome aboard," she said brightly, pushing the parchment toward him. Without taking his eyes off of her, the man signed his name.

"When do we sail?" he asked gruffly, replacing the quill and crossing his arms.

"Ah...report to me at noon," she replied. "My ship is the _Intrepid_; it's docked at the very end. Can't miss it." With a curt nod, the man left her. She watched him disappear into the crowd, then glanced at the name scribbled on the parchment: _Henry Cavendish_.

"Well," she muttered, "there's one more, at least."

Several others signed up, some eager, others cautious. Elizabeth found it quite fascinating that there were so many men lacking a crew in one inn, particularly considering that it was rather small compared to some. An hour passed; the crowd started to dwindle. Yawning, Elizabeth shut her eyes, placing her almost-full bottle of rum on the table. Rum had never really appealed to her; she considered it a vile drink, though she had indulged on certain occasions. It was not its taste that bothered her, but its tendency to muddle one's senses beyond convenience.

Somebody cleared their throat loudly, and she looked up with a start. In front of her stood a short, potbellied man. His greasy halo of shoulder-length brown hair framed his sunburnt face; rows of brown, rotten teeth peeked out from beneath his chapped lips.

"'Ello, poppet."

**End of Chapter Eleven**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Ragetti lifted his head wearily, listening to the faint music drifting down from above. With a sigh, he set a stack of crates on the floor. He had spent several hours organizing them, deciding what they needed for their next voyage – a task that had proven more difficult than expected, considering he hadn't the faintest idea where they were going or how long they would be gone. Stretching, he yawned, then swallowed, wincing at the dryness of his throat. As if in response, his stomach grumbled menacingly. Wistfully, he thought of the _Faithful Bride_, savoring the very memory of their delicious ale and hot food.

He jumped as he heard someone running up the gangplank, their boots thudding dully on the wood. Suspiciously, he glanced up the dark staircase, then quietly began to ascend. The fifth stair creaked quite loudly, and he grimaced, lifting his foot carefully. Suddenly, his unknown adversary barreled into him, knocking them both down the stairs. He landed flat on his back.

"Blimey, 'Lizabeth," he grunted, realizing who it was. He tried not to acknowledge the fact that her face was a mere inch from his own. "Wha-"

"Come on!" Elizabeth cried, scrambling to her feet. She ran halfway up the stairs, then turned, glaring at him with the impatience of a small child. He leaned up on his elbows, wondering how much she had had to drink. Seeing the expression on his face, she rolled her eyes and hurried back down, grabbing his hand. "Come _on_!" Stumbling to his feet, Ragetti found himself being dragged up the staircase. As they hurried across the deck, he banged his elbow on the railing and swore under his breath. Elizabeth seemed to be in quite a hurry; she pulled him down the gangplank with more force than he had thought possible of a woman. Then again, she was no ordinary woman.

"Where're we goin'?"he panted, stumbling over a crack in the dock's weathered wood. They were running now. "'Liza-" He grunted as she skidded to a halt next to a, momentum ramming him into her. With some alarm, he studied her face as she turned to him, letting go of his hand. A broad grin split her heart-shaped face, and she had a mischievous gleam in her mahogany eyes. Rubbing his wrist, he glanced toward the town and back. "Wha'..." He trailed off, taking another look down the road. A man stood a ways in front of them, though how far exactly, Ragetti could not tell. It was a curse, having one eye – he could never know whether something was one yard or ten from him. However, though the man's face was immersed in shadow, he recognized him immediately.

His uncle walked slowly, hesitantly toward him. Ragetti took a step forward as Elizabeth ducked out of the way, disappearing from his field of vision with the grace and subtlety of a drowsy cat. As his uncle stepped into the lantern's light, Ragetti faltered. Pintel's beard, and what was left of his hair, was tinged with steely gray, the bags under his eyes much more pronounced than they had been only a few months before. _A year_, Ragetti thought suddenly. _It's been a year_. He opened his mouth to speak, but, although he had envisioned this reunion countless times, no words came. Swallowing, he half raised his arms, and, before he knew what was happening, his uncle had buried him in a back-breaking hug, and both men were laughing and acting like fussy old ladies.

"Wha- how...?"

"'S a long story..."

"But... go on, then, tell!"

"_Really_ long story."

"C'mon, you've not talked to me for a bloody year, I think you can spare enough to say what 'appened!" Torn between frustration and amusement, Ragetti glanced helplessly at Elizabeth, who stifled a laugh.

"A nice drink'd prob'ly loosen my tongue, though, if you get my meanin'," he said pointedly, feeling a sly grin creep onto his face. His uncle rolled his eyes.

"Haven't changed a bit, have you?"

* * * *

Elizabeth walked a bit ahead of the other two, not far enough to lose them in the crowd, but not close enough to listen to their excited whispers. The essence of their conversation was none of her business. However, as she carefully stepped around a man spread limply in the dirt with a bottle in his grip, she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Suddenly, she wasn't the focus of Ragetti's attention; suddenly she was second-best. _Don't think like that_, she reprimanded herself sternly. _He cares about you just as much as he did a few hours ago_. Not paying attention to her surroundings, she ambled distractedly into the _Faithful Bride_.

Nothing about the inn had changed in the several minutes she had been absent. Men laughed and sang, ate and drank, made wagers and started the occasional brawl. Naval officers and pirates alike seemed quite drunk. Buxom waitresses flirted and were occasionally led into more remote areas of the inn so that men could have their way with them. For this reason, Elizabeth was more than content with her slight figure and uncomely attire; most men would not attempt to seduce one who they thought was another man.

Someone coughed from behind her and she stepped hurriedly out of the doorway, cursing herself for not paying attention. She had grown used to the lazy, care-free lifestyle she had led for the past year on the island. _My island_, she though suddenly. _It's my island_. How could it not be? After all, only she and Ragetti had lived there. Countless excursions had revealed no signs of civilization; no fires had blanketed the stars with smoke apart from her own. _Mine_.

"...even listenin' t' me?" Elizabeth started and focused on Ragetti, who had apparently been talking to her. Annoyance shining in his bright blue eye, he repeated,

"I _said_, look over there." He nodded toward a far corner of the inn. Stepping to the side to see past a group of chattering women, Elizabeth looked where he had indicated. "'s all our old crew, from the _Pearl_." With a sense of dreamy nostalgia, she gazed upon her friends of old.

Joshamee Gibbs was furthest from her, droplets of alcohol visible in his graying sideburns even from this distance. He started laughing heartily, presumably at a joke told by Marty, who had his back to Elizabeth but was easily recognized by his diminutive height. Next to him stood Cotton, grinning dumbly while his associates shook with mirth. His parrot, perched on his shoulder, flapped its wings and squawked indignantly as Gibbs choked on his drink, spraying everyone in the vicinity with liquor.

Suddenly, a man stepped in front of her, blocking her view. She recognized him immediately, neither by his expensive coat nor the monkey perched on his shoulder, but by the swagger in his step.

"Well, well," the man said smoothly. "If this isn't the most pleasurable surprise, Mrs. Turner."

"Captain Barbossa," Elizabeth acknowledged stiffly. "I trust you've had a nice year." She unintentionally let a hard note creep into her voice. "And it's Swann." Next to her, Ragetti shifted, crossing his arms. Raising his bushy eyebrows, Barbossa said,

"Oho." Out of the corners of her eyes, Elizabeth glanced at her friend. His expression was stony, his eyes narrowed. Barbossa continued, "I knew ye had a tendency to attract the macabre, _Mrs_. Turner, but I wasn't aware of your ability to raise the dead." He paused thoughtfully, then added, "Without help, that is." Elizabeth stared coolly at him for a moment, but did not speak. Looking perturbed, Barbossa turned to her friend.

"Well, ah, ye're lucky ye turned up here tonight, Master Ragetti. We sail in the morning, and I wager-"

"No." Barbossa blinked indignantly at the interruption.

"Beg pardon?"

"I ain't goin' wit' you." Elizabeth turned to stare at him. Barbossa swallowed almost imperceptibly and said, in a dangerously cool tone,

"May I ask why not?"

"B'cause...'cause..." Ragetti's face contorted as he searched for the right words. "'Cause you're...you're..." He took a breath. "'Cause you left 'er. You jus' left 'er on tha' bloody island for whole bloody year, an' don' you say you was comin' back, cos you weren't. I was on your bloody ship, and you treated me an' everyone else on it like scum on your boot. 'Lizabeth's my captain now. She only 'as been for a week, an' she's already a damn sigh' better than you!" His voice rose to a near shout as he talked, and the inn went quiet with interest. Without lowering his fierce gaze, Ragetti spat on the boots of the bewildered man in front of him. Barbossa examined him for a moment. Then, he pulled out a pistol and aimed it carefully at Ragetti's heart. A waitress gasped from behind him.

"A pretty speech, lad," Barbossa growled, cocking his pistol. He froze, however, as he felt the barrel of another gun pressed firmly against his skull.

"Shoot," Elizabeth said quite calmly, "and I will kill you." She tried to mask her fear and fury with an air of cool confidence.

"You wouldn't," her adversary croaked, though he eyed her trigger finger warily.

"Bet your life?"

A minute passed, then two. The crowd murmured amongst themselves, but fell silent as Elizabeth deliberately cocked her pistol. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement as Pintel shifted uncomfortably. Finally, Barbossa lowered his weapon – Ragetti breathed a faint sigh of relief – and, after a moment, Elizabeth followed suit. His face unreadable, Barbossa regarded the stocky pirate behind her.

"And I suppose ye'll be accompanying him," he said impassively to Pintel, who shrank back but nodded firmly. Licking his lips, Barbossa stared cooly at Elizabeth, then spoke loudly enough for the entire inn to hear.

"Ye'll regret your temper one day, Elizabeth _Swann_." Without another word, he swept past her and marched out of the door, slamming it behind him.

The inn remained silent for a moment. Then, the musicians picked up their instruments and resumed playing, and the low rumble of voices grew once more. Glancing at Ragetti, Elizabeth tucked her pistol into her belt and muttered,

"C'mon, let's get something to eat."

* * * *

Trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, Ragetti followed Elizabeth through the inn. Pintel trailed behind him, looking sullen.

"Wha's wrong wit' you?" Ragetti asked quietly, so that Elizabeth wouldn't hear. His uncle glanced up at him.

"Nothin'. Just tired."

Not convinced, Ragetti sat on one of the tall stools next to the bar. Calling for ale, he dropped a coin he had kept in his pocket for over a year onto the counter. In a moment's time, the voluptuous waitress slammed a teeming mug of alcohol in front of him, and, with a haughty expression, strutted away with all the humbleness of a rich merchant's spoiled daughter. He eyed her retreating backside appreciatively, taking a frothy sip of the bitter ale. Next to them, a large man was chortling as his associate gesticulated wildly with his arms.

"Dead serious, I am," the man argued loudly. "Biggest ship I ever seen, and armed to boot. Called the _Misère_, I heard. Belongs to some French bloke..."

Elizabeth stood suddenly and excused herself, looking distracted.

"You two seem pretty close," Pintel commented cautiously, feigning nonchalance. Ragetti choked on his ale, realizing what his uncle was implying.

"No- no, no, we're no'- I mean, she's grea', um, an' she's my- _one _o' my bes' friends, bu'...no. 'S just..." He looked over at the subject of their conversation, who had gone over to chat with Gibbs and Marty. "She...she's married. An'...I don' wan'...you know?" His uncle's expression turned to that of sympathy, and Ragetti felt his cheeks start to burn. "No' like tha'. I...she's jus' my friend. Tha's all. Jus' friends." He fell silent.

"...and the only way to get the better of it, I heard, was, you know, the powder magazine, but that'd be suicide!" Both of the men adjacent to them laughed and shuddered into their drinks. After a moment, Elizabeth returned, taking a seat between them with a bottle in her hand. Pintel rose immediately, muttering something about unfinished business, and disappeared into the crowd. Ragetti took a swig of ale, then asked,

"Why'd you say tha'?" She looked at him inquiringly. "I mean, why'd you tell 'im to call you 'Swann' 'stead o' 'Turner'?"

"Oh." She looked rather uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose...I suppose it's because everyone knows Elizabeth _Swann_ as the pirate lord, the one that killed Beckett, the woman who succeeded where other men failed." Pausing for a drink, she shrugged. "I suppose I don't want to have to regain that title."

"Yeah," he said distractedly, glancing around the inn. "Where're we 'eaded after this, any'ow? 'S not like you've go' some pirate king meetin' t' go to or nothin'...righ'?" As he watched, she took a thoughtful swig of alcohol before answering.

"I...I don't know," she answered musingly. "I suppose we'll just...go pirating. Is that all right?" He grinned, then, realizing she was not joking, responded,

"'Course." She smiled gratefully. Taking another look around the inn, he asked, "Where's Mardling?"

"Drunk," she replied simply. Ragetti snorted into his drink, and, sounding almost indignant, she added, "He _is_!"

"I b'lieve you," he insisted hastily, though not quite honestly. "Now, ah, as far as food, we need rum – lots o' rum – an'..."

In the far corner of the room, his face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat, a man watched carefully. After a while, he stood and left the inn with a quick stride, eager to report back to his master.

**End of Chapter Twelve**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Wake up, wake _up_!"

Jonathan opened his eyes slowly, painfully, then closed them again almost immediately. His head throbbed with the steady rhythm of his heart; the sun beat down on his face and bled through his eyelids.

"Get _up_, you great lump!"

Moaning, he squinted up at the person leaning over him. He blinked as the silhouette of a small face suddenly blocked the blazing sun, encompassing his face in shadow.

"Laurent?" he groaned, gingerly feeling the back of his head. Brushing straw and dried mud out of his thick hair, he tried to sit up; the pain in his head flared and he fell backwards, scrunching his eyes together to block the sunlight. Suddenly, a wave of cold water hit him full in the face. Sputtering, he looked up at Laurent as the boy tossed aside a dripping wooden bucket and grabbed his arm, trying fruitlessly to pull him to his feet.

"You idiot, you bloody idiot, it's noon, get up, get _up_!"

"N-noon?" He wiped the water off of his forehead, trying to remember what was important about the fact that it was noon.

"They're _leaving_!" Laurent's voice was becoming increasingly high-pitched.

"Th- wait-" He closed his eyes again, concentrating. "The...the ship?"

"_Yes_!"

Jonathan clumsily scrambled to his feet. His head spinning wildly, he stumbled, grabbing Laurent's arm for support as his vision swam. Groaning, he stood shakily for a moment, then promptly vomited on the boys foot. Ignoring Laurent's exclamation of disgust, he ran clumsily towards the ship, skidding around the corner of the alley and onto the dock. Laurent followed, the boy's bare feet slapping the wooden planks much too loudly.

"Wait!" Jonathan called, stumbling over a crack in the wood as his stomach heaved again. His boot caught in a pile of rope, sending him flying forward; he skidded to a halt at the booted feet of Elizabeth Swann. His captain stood next to the gangplank, glaring pleadingly at her one-eyed friend.

"...sure we need so much rum?" she was saying with disapproval, watching her new crew carry supplies to the ship. "I mean-"

"Aw, c'mon, 'Lizabeth, you've done this b'fore. You _know_ tha' the more rum there is, the 'appier tha' lot'll be. An' anyway, don' worry 'bout money – tha' Peralta bloke 'ad plen'y t' spare locked up in 'is desk. We're fine." On the deck of the _Intrepid_, men shouted as they lowered a large net full of barrels and crates into the cargo hold. Pursing her lips, his captain suddenly looked down at the ground where Jonathan lay.

"There you are," she sighed cooly. "Better hurry up, that lot needs help." She nodded at the men bustling around, then turned and followed Ragetti up the gangplank. With a groan, Jonathan hoisted himself up on his elbows, vowing never to touch a drink again.

"Come on." Laurent grabbed his arm, helping him gently to his feet. "Let's go."

With a final glance back at the town, Jonathan stumbled up the gangplank.

Elizabeth slumped down in the maroon captain's chair with a frustrated groan, her head throbbing slightly for a moment. Drinking was not her strong suit; though she had grown more accustomed to it over the past five years, a glass was still enough to make her a bit lightheaded the next morning. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced up at the door as Ragetti hesitantly entered. Without waiting for him to speak, she curtly ordered,

"Have the men report to me, one at a time. We'll set sail as soon as jobs are assigned, and I..." She trailed off, catching the skeptical look in his eye, then sighed. "Oh, you know what I mean..."

Ragetti stared at her for a moment, then snorted, a sly grin creeping on to his sunburnt face; he began to chuckle. Elizabeth glared at him, trying not to smile. "I have to start acting like the captain at some point, you know," she added. Her friend laughed again.

"No' 'round me, you don'." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"You could set an example for the rest of them, at least," she retorted, somewhat crossly. It was hard enough for her to believe that Mardling and the others from Peralta's crew would follow; the chances that the men she had hired would accept her leadership seemed slim. Ragetti snorted again and, clapping his heels together in a mock salute, responded,

"Yes, ma'am, your cap'aincy, aye aye indeed!" Without another word, he strode smartly out of the cabin, shutting the door with a soft _click_ behind him.

Elizabeth smiled, wondering if there would ever be a time Ragetti would not be able to cheer her up. Deeming it unlikely, she sat back in the comfortable chair, unconsciously twisting a strand of her honey-colored hair between her index and middle fingers. It was far too greasy, she decided with disgust. _How long has it been since I've had a bath?_, she wondered suddenly. _How many years? _

A curt knock at the door pulled Elizabeth out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, pulling her hair back and replacing her battered tricorne on her head. A burly man strode into the room, his sharp, dark muscles and shining bald head providing a strange contrast to the age lines around his eyes. He wore naught but a pair of very worn, very dirty trousers, cut off and frayed at the knees. His blue eyes wary, he closed the cabin door behind him.

"Samuel Hastings," he stated indifferently, without waiting for instruction to do so. Deciding not to take offense, Elizabeth calmly inquired,

"Position?"

"Gunman, ma'am. Have been for twenty years." With a crisp nod, she wrote his information down on a slip of parchment and dismissed him. He left without another word. A younger man with curly ginger hair replaced him, requesting to be the ship's navigator. Though not without doubt, Elizabeth agreed, first ensuring that he could read the charts she had purchased earlier that morning. He stepped out if the cabin with a satisfied smile. Soon, the navigator was joined by a doctor, who had lived an honorable life until the death of his fiancé, a carpenter with a face disfigured by some sort of past disease, two gunmen, one tall and thick, the other of medium height and a husky accent, a man with nothing remaining of his left leg below the knee (who was to be in the crows nest), three sailors, a cook, who Elizabeth decided would be a good boatswain, two sailors, and Pintel. Finally, Jonathan Mardling stepped in through the open door, followed closely by his young French acquaintance (whose name escaped her). Elizabeth smiled at the child, who seemed extremely nervous, then directed her attention to Jonathan.

"Well?" she asked, glancing at her notes. She had decided that she would only force a job upon him if absolutely necessary; in this case, it was not. "What do you want to do?" Seeming surprised at her leniency, Jonathan swallowed and replied,

"Er, well, I...see, I've always wanted to be, er, a doctor...but I dunno how..." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in consideration.

"That's not up to me," she said finally. Jonathan stood in confused silence. A small smile crossing her face, she continued, "You'll want to talk to the ship's doctor about that." Jonathan's face lit up, and he dashed out the door without another word, leaving the small boy behind.

Elizabeth studied the child. Dark, shoulder-length hair framed his thin face, which was shadowed by large, wide-brimmed tricorne. The boy's clothes hung loose on his bone- thin frame; his bare feet were dirty and cut. Elizabeth estimated that he couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen, at the most. _Too young_, she thought. _Too young and too thin_. Kindly, she asked,

"Do you realize what you're getting in to?" The child shifted uneasily. "Being a pirate isn't a game," she continued, choosing her words with care. The child tilted his head very slightly to the side, but before Elizabeth could proceed, he responded clearly,

"I want to join your crew." Elizabeth looked down at the newly formulated list of crew members, trying to show dismissal. However, folding his scrawny arms in front of him, the boy repeated, "I want to join your crew." This time, an edge crept into his soft voice, a hint of respectful authority. Elizabeth looked up at the child, who had straightened his posture and now stood only a few inches shorter than herself. His chin pointed to the air. Elizabeth sighed, losing a small amount of patience.

"How old are you?" she asked irritably. "Ten? Eleven?"

"I'm perfectly capable-"

"You have your entire life ahead of you. Go back to the town, get a job, find a home. Don't get involved in this." The boy shook his head. Calmly, he replied,

"I _will_ stay on this ship. I've no home to return to, no life to live. And I'm fourteen." Before Elizabeth could reply, he continued, "If anyone should return to their former life, Captain Swann, it's you."

Elizabeth stared at the child, who returned the look with equal force. He knew who she was. Somehow, this child, this street rat from Tortuga, knew about her past. _How...?_ she thought musingly. Then, with a quick shake of her head, she said,

"No. Get out. I'll not have a babe on my ship."

A look of hurt frustration crossed the boy's face, and he ran out of the cabin. Elizabeth watched him go with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. After a moment, she followed him out, nodding at Ragetti. As she climbed the dark, wooden stairs up to the wheel, her new crew gathered beneath her, watching with interest, but not respect. For pirates, respect had to be earned; until she had proven herself to them, they would neither trust nor truly respect her, and thus could not be trusted themselves. Mustering her courage, she surveyed the motley crowd below. They stared up at her in waiting, a few shifting uncomfortable in the noontime sun. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak.

"All of you," she calmly announced, "come from a different background. For some of you, this is an escape; for others, merely a job. Some of you have been dirt-poor your entire lives, some of you have not. But now, that doesn't matter." She paused, and Ragetti grinned encouragingly at her. "On this ship, you are equal. You will work hard," she continued, "and be rewarded for it. Should you fail to do so, you will be punished accordingly. Any questions?"

The newly-formed crew stood silently, digesting her words. After a moment in which naught could be heard but the crying of gulls and the shouts of other crews, Elizabeth called, "Then get to work! Full canvas! Raise anchor and put her in irons! You know what to do."

Immediately, the men began scurrying about the deck. Ragetti dashed up the stairs to stand next to her. Together, they surveyed the crew, occasionally calling out orders. The curly-haired navigator soon joined them.

"Where're we off to, Cap'n?" he asked jubilantly. Elizabeth blinked, looking to Ragetti for support.

"Por' Royal," her friend cut in quickly. The navigator nodded and walked briskly away; Elizabeth watched him go, then spun to face Ragetti.

"Port Royal?" she cried. "_Port Royal_? Are you mad?"

"Wha's wrong wit' Por' Royal?" Ragetti responded, incredulous. "From 'ere, 's prob'ly the bes' way we could go. Plen'y o' trade ships, foreigners, an'-"

"I don't care," Elizabeth retorted furiously. "I'm not attacking the town I grew up in."

"You don' live there no more, 'Lizabeth. Tha's no' your life anymore." Elizabeth clenched her fists, trying not to accept the fact that his reasoning was perfectly accurate.

"I am not going to let that town be rampaged by bloody pirates again, even if they're my own men," she growled.

"Well, you're bloody lucky it was when it was, or you'd be married to that Norrington bloke, an' we'd..." Ragetti trailed off, the anger fading from his face. "We'd never've met." Elizabeth blinked.

"I- I didn't mean...it's just that- oh, I don't know. For better or for worse, what's happened has happened, and I wouldn't change it if I could. It'll just be strange." At that moment, a strong breeze caught the sails, and the _Intrepid _began to move away from the dock. Elizabeth glanced at her friend. He stood, looking out at the crew, in an air of hurt silence. She sighed once more.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I was just surprised."

"I know," her friend replied, after a moment. "I know."

**End of Chapter Thirteen**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Ashes floated through the murky air like autumn's falling leaves, making it difficult to see further than a few yards ahead. Nonetheless, the boy trudged on, making his way through the forest of charred wood and broken glass. He stopped in what was once the doorway, a pang of dread encompassing his heart. He knew what he would find in the godforsaken ruins; he knew what was to come, but he had no choice but to go on. Carefully, he stepped inside, treading on what was once a beautiful Persian rug. Embers glowed faintly in corners, eerily illuminating the darkened building. Swallowing, the boy looked up; the second floor had crumbled in on itself, leaving a gaping hole directly above his head. As he walked, the blackened remains of a harpsichord collapsed in front of him. He erupted into a fit of coughs, nearly doubling over. As they subsided, his blue eyes found something different amongst the desolate mass of debris. His heart froze as he realized what it was, for there, lying stiffly amongst the charred furniture, was-_

"No!" Ragetti tumbled out of the hammock he had been sleeping in, hitting the floor with a loud _thud_. Gasping, he clutched his chest as groggy groans of protest erupted from the other crewmen in the dark sleeping quarters. "S-sorry," he gasped, cursing his black fortune. Grumbling, the others settled into more comfortable positions and quieted down, but Ragetti could not bring himself to return to the world of nightmares. He rose, and, feeling his way through the dark, wade his way onto the deck.

It was still nighttime, though only just, and the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. Nodding at the Russian gunman, who was on watch until dawn, Ragetti quietly climbed the seven steps to the bow. He carefully sat on the ship's rail, swinging one leg over the edge. Musing, he folded his arms and leaned back. For fourteen years, he had been haunted by memories, memories of a living nightmare. Fourteen years of having nobody to confide in. Pintel was the only family he had, and, though caring enough, his uncle was no help – of women, he knew only of the wenches he could catch at port, and death was all too familiar to him.

"You all right?" Pintel's voice rang through the cool air like a bell as he ascended up the stairs. "You ain't usually up this early, 'les there's a reason."

Ragetti shook his head, glancing to the east. A pale light had begun to peek over the horizon. Sighing, he replied,

"I'm alrigh'. Jus' another dream, tha's all." Pintel chucked mirthlessly.

"Yeah, I heard that bit." He leaned over the railing next to Ragetti's leg, spitting darkly into the water. "'Bout Delilah?"

Ragetti nodded shortly. With an exasperated sigh, his uncle turned to face him.

"You've _got_ to forget about her," he insisted, turning his back to the rising sun. "She's just one girl, mate. There's plenty o' salty wenches out and about, and-"

Ragetti stood suddenly, frustrated. They had had this conversation before.

"I don' wan' the wenches, they're jus'-"

"Oh, I knows who you wants," his uncle sneered, a bitter expression crossing his face. "And I'm telling you, you ought to forget about _her_ as well."

Ragetti blinked.

"Wha'?" he asked, bemused.

"You knows," Pintel retorted. His face showed no sign of a joke; Ragetti shook his head, bewildered. With an exasperated expression, his uncle nodded towards the captain's cabin.

"Wha'? Oh- the cap'n? No, no no no," he replied hurriedly "No, we're jus'...I mean, we ain't..." He felt his cheeks reddening. "I...she's married..." Pintel folded his arms across his chest.

"Just 'cos she's married don't mean you can't fancy 'er," he said bluntly.

"I...I don'-"

"You _do_, and you knows it. No use denyin' it," his uncle argued. The sun was now completely above the horizon, spilling golden-red light across the world. Ragetti shifted uncomfortably; out of the corner of his eye, he could see other crewmen emerging from their quarters. He shook his head, as though trying to shake off a fly, and firmly replied,

"Jus' friends." Pintel rolled his eyes and shuffled away, leaving Ragetti alone with his thoughts. Disquieted, he looked out at the sun, wondering just how truthful his objection really was.

Swallowing, Jonathan shuffled up to the rather truculent-looking man that his captain had pointed out. Before he could speak, however, the ship's doctor walked away.

"E-excuse me," Jonathan called sheepishly. The man halted, turning to face him with an exasperated glare.

"What d'ye want?" he asked in a gruff Scottish accent. "I've business to attend to."

"I was hoping," Jonathan replied ambitiously, "to- er, to be your...apprentice. You see, I've always wanted to-"

"I don't need an apprentice," the man cut in flatly.

"But-"

"No, thank ye." Jonathan watched with horror as the man began to walk away.

"But..." he meekly called, "the captain said..." With a sigh, the doctor paused. Jonathan watched him hopefully, not daring to say another word.

"Look, boy," the man said, reluctantly turning to face him. "If ye want me to show ye the ropes, then fine. I'll teach ye what ye need to know. But I'm warning ye – I'll not be nice. Don't go crying to the captain when I don't show ye any mercy, 'cos ye're the one to blame for it. Understand?" Slightly unnerved, Jonathan nodded. _Can't be _that_ bad_, he thought nervously. "Right then," the man replied shortly. "When I call ye, be ready. There's no training to be done; ye'll learn on the job. Now go do something productive." Without another word, he strode away.

Jonathan sighed, then leaned against the rail, closing his eyes to block out the sun. A scratching sound, then a _thump_, suddenly resounded from within the large barrel next to him; expecting to find a rat, he glanced around, then pried it open. Inside crouched the boy from the inn.

"Laurent?" he asked incredulously. The boy cringed.

"Quiet," the boy whispered urgently. "Are we away from the dock yet?" Jonathan blinked.

"What are you doing in there?" he breathed urgently, again checking for observers.

"Please," the boy implored, his soft French accent becoming slightly more pronounced, "you mustn't tell the captain." His nearly purple eyes glistened in the sunlight. "You _mustn_'_t_, Jonathan."

Jonathan pursed his lips, thinking. It was obvious that Laurent was not supposed to be there, and he was reluctant to upset his new captain. On the other hand, the boy was only a few years younger than himself, and all alone to boot. In fact, he seemed to remember Laurent talking about having no parents, no family to take care of him.

"All right," he reluctantly agreed. "I won't. But, er, stay out of sight, yeah?" Laurent grinned and nodded eagerly. Replacing the barrel's top, Jonathan shook his head. Then, he hurried away, running a hand distractedly through his thick hair.

Ragetti hung from the ratlines, examining the far-off silhouette of a ship. _Looks promising_, he thought, though he couldn't be certain. Deciding that it was worth a try, he leapt down, slipping on the wet deck.

"Idjit," his uncle growled. He, Mardling, and another crewman had been scrubbing the deck for a good part of the afternoon. Ragetti had helped for a while, until Elizabeth had told him it was unnecessary for him to do so.

"Oh, shu' it," he retorted, licking his lips. His uncle rolled his eyes and stood, dusting off his already filthy clothes.

"Where you goin' anyways?" Pintel shot as Ragetti began to walk away.

"T' talk t' 'Lizabeth," he replied, not looking back.

"Oh, it's '_Elizabeth_' now, is it?" his uncle called after him. "Not '_the captain_', like the rest of us?"

Shaking his head, Ragetti strode into the captain's cabin without bothering to knock; he knew that she would not mind. Elizabeth looked up from her desk.

"D'you know what I'd like to do some day?" she asked, a strange gleam in her eye. "I'd like to go back to that island." Ragetti blinked. Glancing to the side, he slowly replied,

"Ah...'Lizabeth?"

"Yes?"

"Didn' we jus' spend a year tryin' t' get _off_ th' island?" His friend laughed, beckoning for him to come closer. He did so, walking around the desk to look over her shoulder.

"What I _mean_," she insisted, pulling a drawing out from under a book on her desk, "is _this_." Ragetti leaned over the desk to see.

He recognized the island's crescent-like shape instantaneously. The hand-drawn map seemed fairly accurate; he noticed the lake on the island's far side, and she had sketched the cliffs on the west side. However, as he further examined it, he noticed that she had put symbols in as well. Seven small squares, each about an inch apart, lined the coastline.

"_These_," she said, pointing at one of the squares, "would be lookout points – a man facing every direction, so we have an advantage. Now _this_," – she indicated a larger shape toward the middle of the island – "this would be the main section. Food, shelter, most of the weapons would be here." She paused, and Ragetti nodded in comprehension. Grinning, she continued, "Now, we would keep the ship _here_, where it's surrounded by cliffs, so-"

"'Lizabeth?" She looked up. Reluctantly, he asked, "Ah...no' t'be rude or nothin', bu'...why...?" Elizabeth hesitated.

"Well, I just thought it'd be nice to have a place to...I mean, what if...it's like...like the Isla de Muerta," she added hurriedly, "only without the curse. Somewhere to keep the money, somewhere to hide, somewhere to keep extra provisions, just in case. That sort of thing."

"Oh." Upon consideration, he decided that it was a rather good idea. "Sounds good." She nodded, smiling thoughtfully. After a moment, he casually changed the subject. "You ever gonna settle down?"

"What?" Ragetti blushed, immediately regretting the question.

"Well, I jus'...I dunno. Jus' wonderin'." Biting her lip thoughtfully, Elizabeth leaned on her elbows.

"I dunno," she confessed, looking troubled. "Don't suppose I can. I mean, I couldn't exactly live a normal life if I did, what with...everything..." A shadow crossed her face, and Ragetti realized that she was thinking about Turner._Great_, he thought remorsefully. _Now I've done it_.

"Well, I mean, I didn' really expec' you to," he quickly continued. "You're more of a...free spiri', no' the type t' settle down. Y'know?" She looked up, an inkling of hope in her eyes. "Person'lly, I can' see you leadin' a...a normal life. You're too brave, an' independan' , an' intelligen', an'..." He paused, wondering whether he should continue. "An' _wonderful_."

Elizabeth's glistening amber eyes widened, and a small smile brightened her expression.

"D'you really think that?" she asked quietly, fiddling with a strand of her honey-colored hair.

"'Course," Ragetti replied. He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it again, feeling a sudden surge of guilt. After a moment, she looked up at him.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" she asked, a guilty smile crossing her face. "I sort of...interrupted you." Ragetti started.

"Oh- yeah. There's a ship t' the east. Looks like a possibili'y, if y'know wha' I mean." She glanced out of her window.

"Yes," she agreed musingly, "Yes, it does." She stood suddenly, grabbing her tricorne from the back of her chair. "Come on, let's tell the navigator to alter course. What's his name again?" Shrugging, Ragetti followed her through the door and up the stairs.

"Oy," she called at the boy on the wheel. "Alter course; go in pursuit of that ship." She pointed to the distant vessel as she spoke.

"Aye, Cap'n," the redheaded navigator replied, twirling the wheel. A breeze caught the sails, pushing the _Intrepid_ towards its prey. Nodding with approval, Elizabeth gazed at their target for a moment, then grinned at Ragetti.

"Our first battle," she whispered with gleeful avidity. Glancing to the east, she said, "Their sails are lowered; they're barely even moving. We should catch them within an hour. Ready the crew." He nodded, the excitement of battle washing over him. A feisty grin crossed his face, and he started down the steps.

"And, Ragetti?" he heard Elizabeth call. Turning to look up at her, he answered,

"Yeah?"

"Hoist the colors."

**End of Chapter Fourteen**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Ragetti leaned against the mast, watching their target as a tiger watches its prey. The ship's sails had been raised a few minutes before - her crew had evidently realized their predicament. Unfortunately for them, the Intrepid was a sleeker, more agile vessel, and also had the wind on her side.

"Bring ou' th' sweeps," he shot at a passing crewman, who hurriedly went to carry out the order. Out they came, carrying the Intrepid even more rapidly through the sea. After a minute, Elizabeth joined him.

"How long, d'you think?" she asked. Her sword was now at her side, and Ragetti noticed a pistol tucked into her belt. As she spoke, her freshly braided hair whipped out in front of her, sleek and long.

"No' long," he responded shortly. "I'd say, mebbe...ten minutes." Elizabeth

nodded.

"Ready the guns," she ordered, turning to look at him. "D'you suppose you

could...I mean, seeing as you're experienced, and I don't know how efficient the

others are..." Ragetti blinked.

"Oh- yeah, sure."

"Good," she replied, looking relieved. He grinned and dashed off, hurrying below.

"Ready the guns," he repeated to the seven crewmen he found there. They immediately began scurrying about, gathering powder and shot. With a look of grim determination, Ragetti quickly walked over to help his uncle.

"Oh, mister high 'n mighty coming to help us lowly crewmen, eh?" Pintel shot, glancing up at him.

"Wha'?"

"Oh, never mind. Get me some powder." Ragetti fetched a bag of gunpowder; hurrying back to the cannon, he dropped to his knees

"Prepare to broadside!" He glanced up at the shout from above, then hurriedly loaded the ball of shot. Within minutes, the sweeps were withdrawn, and he could see the other ship's battered hull out of the corner of the gun port.

"Wai' for it," he murmured to the crewmen, who were fidgeting quietly. From above, he heard Elizabeth shout something, though he couldn't make out what it was. An unfamiliar voice, deep and coarse, answered. His voice was laced with derision, thinly veiled under nonchalance.

"Very well," Ragetti heard his captain call, her terse voice muffled by the crashing waves. He held his breath, waiting. "Fire!"

"Fire!" he cried fiercely, lighting the fuse to his own cannon. His fellows followed suit. The shots ripped cruel gashes in the other ship's hull; splinters flew through the air, a motley array of deadly missiles. Glancing through the gun port, he noticed the other crew preparing to fire.

"Down!" he shouted, dropping to the ground. The enemy's cannons tore through the walls, showering the men with bits of wood. Hastily reloading his cannon, Ragetti licked his lips, relishing the bitter taste of battle. With a snarl, he shot his pistol through the gun port and fired the cannon once more.

Jonathan stood tensely at the Intrepid's rail, staring at the enemy ship and awaiting orders. My first battle, he thought with quiet excitement. Finally, some adventure. Suddenly, his captain's voice ripped through the air.

"Prepare to board!" Grappling hooks flew across the gap between the two vessels, firmly ensnaring the enemy ship. Releasing a ferocious yell and, brandishing his cutlass, Jonathan jumped onto the railing. A large, unshaven beast of a man, brandishing an evil-looking rapier, leapt in front of him, blocking his path with a savage growl. Jonathan jumped to the side, quickly swinging his sword around. The man parried his blow with a flourish, his small eyes flashing under the tattered bandanna wrapped around his skull. Breathing heavily, Jonathan pulled his sword up above his head, blocking a sharp swing at his neck. His arms were beginning to burn; sweat trickled down his jaw, leaving cool, damp trails on his cheek. Jonathan jumped back, pushing the man away from him. His adversary stepped backwards and tripped on a piece of smouldering wood, blown from the rail by a cannonball. It's now, or not at all, Jonathan thought, hoisting his cutlass. With a fierce, short cry, he charged towards the man, who was almost back on his feet. The boy barreled into the man's bulging torso, knocking them both to the ground. Quickly, Jonathan scrambled to his feet and kicked the man's rapier out of his hand. His adversary cringed, but did not make any move to retrieve it.

His blade quivering against the man's neck, Jonathan's chest heaved, his heart pounding in his chest. Trembling slightly, he tensed, preparing to strike the final blow. However, as he looked into the man's terrified brown eyes, swimming with the utter hopelessness of defeat, pity washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he raised his arm - his enemy closed his eyes, whimpering slightly - and brought the cutlass down hilt-first, knocking the man out. With a final glance at his unconscious opponent, Jonathan ducked back into the fray. As he parried a particularly ferocious blow, he glanced to the side, and gasped: a thin, dark man was standing at the door to the captain's cabin, picking the lock. With a sudden, nearly inaudible click, the door opened, and the man slipped inside. With a sudden burst of anger, Jonathan turned and punched the man he had been fighting, who had pulled out a pistol. The man dropped to the ground with an expression of shock, clutching his bleeding nose. Snatching up the pistol, Jonathan ran to the captain's cabin and crept through the door.

The man was rummaging through the top drawer of the captain's desk, examining anything that appeared to be valuable. With a grunt, he closed the first drawer and opened the second, bending over to better see its contents. Suddenly, he cocked his head inquisitively and leaned in closer, so Jonathan could no longer see his face. When the man emerged, he held a dark red ribbon between two spindly fingers, lifting it up to catch the light. Attached to it was an old, rusty key, unlike anything Jonathan had seen before. The man straightened, glancing about the room. When his dark eyes fell upon Jonathan, he tensed, pulling out his sword with his free hand. Suddenly quite nervous, Jonathan help up the pistol, aiming it with shaking hands at the enemy.

"Get out," he said, his voice far more timid than he would have liked. The man stared at him for a moment, then snorted and resumed digging through the desk with smirk. "Get out!" the boy shouted, cocking the pistol. The man looked up, a dangerous expression on his thin face. He slowly walked around the desk, hands empty. Jonathan pursed his lips as the man drew closer. Then, with a yell, the man ripped his sword out of his belt and swiped at the boy. Jonathan ducked, feeling the blade slice through the air above his head, then swung the pistol around, striking the man in the temple. He fell without another sound.

Tucking the pistol into his belt, Jonathan sighed and turned around, examining his captain's cabin. It was fairly tidy, though the bed had been made rather hastily. Glancing around, he noticed a small, ornate chest in the far corner. It was dark brown laced with murky green, and seemed ancient. Curious, he walked over to the chest and knelt next to it. With a furtive glance at the cabin's door, he placed both hands on the beautifully carved lid, then lifted carefully. The chest was locked. Jonathan sighed, both disappointed and relieved. Something about the chest intrigued him, something he couldn't quite place. Slowly getting to his feet, he walked over and closed the desk's drawers, replacing the items the man had taken out. As he picked up a goose feather quill, which had fallen to the ground, a flash of red caught his eye - the key. He straightened up, carefully grasping the maroon ribbon and lifting it to catch the sunlight streaming through the window. It was truly very old, a moldy green in color, and spotted with rust. Jonathan blinked with a sudden realization, glancing at the chest in the corner.

"I wonder..." he murmured to himself, keeping his eyes on the chest. Quickly, he walked over to it and knelt. His heart quickening, he inserted the key, turning it gently in the ancient keyhole. It opened with a click. Holding his breath, Jonathan carefully lifted the chest's lid, peering inside. When he saw its contents, he jumped back, an involuntary shout erupting from his lungs. Suddenly, his captain burst in, Ragetti at her heels.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked furiously, her eyes glinting dangerously. Jonathan backed away, staring at the bloodied sword still in her hand. "What makes you think you have the right to- to rifle through my personal belongings?"

"I...I..." he faltered, glancing from the chest to its owner. "There...there's a...heart..." "And?" Elizabeth retorted coldly. "I would be happy to explain everything to you, Jonathan, but I'll need your story first. I will ask you one more time: What are you doing in here?"

"I...I followed him in," Jonathan said weakly, nodding at the still-unconscious man lying face-down on the carpet. "I was just trying to help, I...I dunno what c-came over me..." He glanced at the chest, able to hear a faint beating from inside it. "What...?" His captain sighed. "Sit down," she wearily sighed, gesturing at the rather plain chair next to her desk. Jonathan sat, uneasily clasping his hands in his lap. "How much do you know about Davy Jones?" Elizabeth asked flatly. Ragetti leaned against the door, arms folded across his chest.

"Er..." Jonathan trailed off, thinking. The name was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "Nothing," he replied simply. Pursing her lips, his captain replied,

"Very well. From the beginning, I suppose."

Ragetti listened with mild interest as Elizabeth recounted her version of the previous five years, beginning with her sighting a ghostly ship in the fog. He remembered it – a British ship looming out of the fog, trying to help the Pearl's latest victim; an angelic, unearthly voice, floating through the air, singing a song he knew all too well.

She moved on, telling of Port Royal and pirates, of that faithful night she was captured. As she spoke, Ragetti recalled the thick, roiling fog that had accompanied the Pearl into the bay that night, so many years before. The flash of her cannons, the shrieks and shouts that had pierced the night. A woman - nay, little more than a girl - in her nightgown, fiercely defending her home. The moon hiding behind the clouds...

She then moved on to her return to Port Royal, and Jack Sparrow's escape. Her engagement to Turner. Lord Cutler Beckett. Disguising herself and searching for her fiancé. Davy Jones. A battered chest, cradling a broken heart...

Her tone turned bitter as she spoke of Jack Sparrow and the beast that took his life. She said nothing of her role in his death, nor the guilt she had felt afterwards, but Ragetti could see it in her eyes. She told of Singapore, and Sao Feng; a monolithic waterfall, and a desert wasteland that surpassed every man's most vivid nightmares. Ragetti shuddered, remembering the utter emptiness of the godforsaken place...

The boy watched with increasing awe as she spoke, recounting the death of Commodore Norrington and her journey to Shipwreck Cove. Of the release of Calypso. Of that final battle, a battle of the purest joy, and the utmost sorrow. Her eyes remained distant and cold as she finished her tale, her expression unreadable. She fell silent, leaning against the cabin's wall, her arms folded.

" Any questions?" she asked shortly.

"No," the boy replied shakily, though his thoroughly bemused expression said otherwise.

"Then get out." Mardling scurried out the door without hesitation, slamming it behind him. Ragetti glanced at Elizabeth; she was staring grimly at the opposite wall, nostalgia in her eyes.

"I think we can trust him," she murmured, seemingly to herself. Ragetti shifted, licking his lips.

"Aye," he agreed. The boy seemed reliable enough, if a bit cowardly.

Pursing her lips, Elizabeth glanced out the window, leaning on the edge of the desk. When she looked back at him, he noticed a single tear in the corner of her eye. She wiped it off with a furious grimace; concerned, Ragetti stepped closer. "Are you...are you alrigh'?"

"Yeah," she replied distantly, looking up, but avoiding his gaze. He failed, however, to overlook the anger and pain in her eyes. With a sigh, he walked around the mahogany desk and sat on her bed.

"No, you ain't," he said bluntly. She glanced at him quickly, then stared blankly at her fingers, twisting a strand of hair between them.

"The captain of that ship," she replied stiffly, "is an arrogant fool."

"What'd he say?"

"He...oh, it doesn't matter. I'm fine."

"No, you ain't," Ragetti repeated crossly. He stood and crouched next to her, so that his face was level with hers. Her eyes met his. They were unfathomable oceans, amber waves of pain and rage lapping at cool black islands of restlessness. With a sigh, she bitterly replied,

"He...that...that man...he said- he said that a woman has no business being on a ship, and that defeating us was...a...an act of mercy." As she spoke, her hands curled into tight fists. Ragetti grunted.

"'Lizabeth, this is exac'ly the reaction 'e wan'ed," he said gently. "'E only said tha' to bother you, 'cos 'e knew it would. Don' worry." She looked up at him with watery eyes, torn between rage and hope.

"But it's true," she said miserably. "I'm not...I mean, I can't..."

"Don' even say tha'," Ragetti interrupted, gently taking her hands in his. "You're amazing, bloody fantastic. An' 'e was wrong, anyways! We won th' battle, he ain't-"

"Captain!" Mardling burst in, a hint of regret flashing across his face when he saw them. Ragetti quickly stood up, clearing his throat.

"Wha' d'you want, boy?" he asked not unkindly, crossing his arms.

"Oh- er, well, they were just wondering what to do with the prisoners..."

Elizabeth stood, carefully adjusting her worn maroon coat.

"How many are there?" she asked, her voice suddenly strong and clear.

"Six, ma'am," Mardling replied quickly. Glancing at Ragetti, Elizabeth nodded curtly, replying,

"Very well. Master Ragetti will see to it immediately." Swallowing, Ragetti followed Mardling out the door, stealing a last glance at his captain before she disappeared behind the door.

End of Chapter Fifteen


End file.
